She was sore with the perplexities of her preposterous position. You’re all dependents—all of you. The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. “I heard the other day that she’d been taken in by some cad of a fellow who was cutting a great dash in Paris, personating Meysey Hill, the great railway man. Both advanced towards it, when, by the light of the lantern, Wood beheld, in the countenance of the stranger, the well-remembered and stern features of Rowland.
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