The curve of his shoulders, the very angle of his feet, expressed relief at her apparent obedience. "He will be murdered!—Help!" "My child!—my love!" cried Wood, dragging her forcibly back. He breathed a little sigh of satisfaction. ” It occurred to her that she had never seen her father dining out before, never watched him critically as an equal. Instead, they lived a Bohemian existence, moving from patron to patron, city to city. " "Nor any one else in his senses," rejoined Wood, with a laugh.
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