But come, sir. "Shall I take the babby home with me!" persisted Wood, in a tone between jest and earnest. She herself, and one other there, recognized the interposition of something akin to tragedy. If you ride past the church, and mount the hill, you'll come to Neasdon and then you'll not have above half a mile to go. But perhaps I had better get a room in an hotel to-night and look round. I have very few friends in Paris.
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