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Come, come, be reasonable, and listen to me. "He will be murdered!—Help!" "My child!—my love!" cried Wood, dragging her forcibly back. “Your mother was a Gypsy. To vault over the pews was the work of a moment; and having gained the entry leading to the Red Room he passed through the first door; his progress being only impeded by the pile of broken stones, which he himself had raised. Fortunately, the window was not far from the ground; so opening it gently, he dropped into a backyard, and from thence got into the street.
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