She heard her husband’s heavy tread descending the stairs, and the wheels of his carriage as he drove off. " "Thank God for that!" cried Wood, heartily. “Next door,” said a spectacled young person of seventeen or eighteen, with an impatient indication of the direction. “Then either this man shot himself or some one else shot him immediately before your arrival—or rather if it was not himself the person who did it was in the room, say two minutes, before you arrived. You see, I’m selfish. “Do I understand you then to refuse my offer?” he asked Anna.
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