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"Don't leave him, if you're at all fearful, my dear," replied Wood, receiving the little burthen with a laugh. As usual the substantive sister—Prudence—did all the talking for the pair; Angelina, the shadow, offered only her submitting nods. Where was the harm in letting her go? She could not get far. . ’ ‘Dieu du ciel! But this is catastrophe. Put out your hand and bid me God-speed. The angels in Heaven shall not tear you from me. It was Sebastian’s fault for slapping her face and letting the baby out. At the head of the cart was placed the coffin.
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