She patted John's head with her palm, its surface appealingly fuzzy. . " "And so Sir Rowland murdered his friend," remarked Wood. If he wished, he could even take this inheritance from her. “I won’t go home,” she said; “I won’t!” and she evaded the clutch of the fatherly policeman and tried to thrust herself past him in the direction of that big portal. Then he turned round and gazed thoughtfully at the particular spot in the fog where Courtlaw had disappeared.
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