Only Gwen left a letter on the pincushion. The family always managed to make it home for supper, even though it was a dying custom. The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. Wood, meanwhile, had summoned his men-servants, and having armed them with such weapons as could be found, they proceeded to the garden, where the first object they encountered was Thames Darrell, extended on the ground, and weltering in his blood. ‘Oh, dearie me, you make me feel a traitor.
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