Threw it out. CHAPTER VIII. In any event, I brought her to the convent and we had her locked up separately, and told ’em both they’d be taken into custody as soon as Valade was fit to go. Wood, in his Sunday habiliments and Sunday buckle. Oh, Heavens; that I should have ever indulged a hope of happiness while that terrible man lives!" "Compose yourself, Joan," said Wood; "all will yet be well. But we've got to cook up some kind of a story to protect her.
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