CHAPTER XXVI. "Release your prisoner," continued Wood, "or the window is opened. “Yet it is my last evening, and I think —if you are sure that you would like to have me—that I will risk it. She looked at him gravely and squinted. Mrs. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. The warm September sun fell strongly on this part of the grounds, uninterrupted by trees, its light bouncing off the glass in the mansion’s walls.
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