Wood, the carpenter, who formerly resided here, is still living?" "If you feel any anxiety on his account, Sir, I'm happy to be able to relieve it," answered Kneebone, readily. When he was concentrating, deep shadows formed under his gray eyes. The blue jowl, the fat-lidded eyes—now merry, now alert, now tungsten hard—the bullet head, the pudgy fingers and the square-toed shoes were all in conformation with the doctor's olden mental picture. But all this business has driven it clean out of my head. At any rate she must see me.
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