“Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. “Allow me. I’m leaving you, and you can’t stop me. The world into which she was so boldly venturing was going to be wonderful, but never so wonderful as the world within these paper covers. " "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell.
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