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Expiation. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. She was as pale as death, but she seemed to have lost the power of movement. It would not have been for her an anomaly to read a love story in which there were no kisses. "Spare him!" cried Mrs, Sheppard, who fancied she had made some impression on the obdurate breast of the thief-taker,—"spare him! and I will forgive you, will thank you, bless you.
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