Part 3 She dressed carefully for dinner in a black dress that her father liked, and that made her look serious and responsible. His frowning gaze came back to her. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. " "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell. You are nothing of the sort. ” “She doesn’t develop a specialty. ” Lucy said tenderly. Wood," she continued, with a sudden change of tone, and convulsively clutching the carpenter's arm, "promise it me. I’m convinced that much of Russell’s investigations are on wrong lines, unsound lines.
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