“I must go. ’ She gestured at his hand, on which Roding’s makeshift bandage had been replaced by a more efficient one. I will permit you to rescue me. He had never liked to be hugged, but she wondered if his corporeal needs would be made apparent by human touch. The turnkey looked round the next moment, but the manoeuvre escaped his observation. ‘This is insupportable. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living.
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