" "God forbid!" exclaimed Wood, fervently; and, as if afraid of prolonging the interview, he added, with some precipitation, "But I must be going: I've stayed here too long already. The Widgett mental furniture was perhaps worn and shabby, but there it was before you, undisguised, fading visibly in an almost pitiless sunlight. I have given up painting. Of you—an angel with one wing. No, you don’t!” Ennison had moved stealthily a little nearer to him, and looked suddenly into the dark muzzle of the revolver. . Then she came a few steps to meet him. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. He tried to raise an outcry, but his throat was again forcibly griped by Rowland. "Good-b'ye, Jack," said Figg, putting on his hat.
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