"What the devil are you howling about?" cried Langley. " "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell. "Mercy on us! what have I said!" cried the attendant, greatly alarmed by the agitation of her mistress; "do sit down, your ladyship, while I run for the ratifia and rosa solis. She emerged with a white face and wide-open eyes upon a little, red-lit landing.
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