He halted,—looked fearfully around,—stopped again, and exclaimed aloud, "I don't like the job; and yet it must be done, or Mr. Wood—" "That's false!" cried a voice behind him. She felt she must get him talking upon some impersonal theme at any cost. He's got the gift of the gab. I felt—wrapped in thick cobwebs. And if I cared to have him come every day, why shouldn’t he? I find him very amusing and very useful as well. We’re partly human beings and partly females in suspense.
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