" "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. " "God help me, what a muddle!" The cigar crumbled in Spurlock's hand. At this juncture, a cry burst from the child, who, nearly smothered by the weight imposed upon him, only recovered the use of his lungs as Wood altered the position of the bundle. Ann Veronica ignored her friend’s confusion.
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