“Yes. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. ’ There was a chuckle in his voice. “Where have you been? All these hours I have been calling for you. I am aware that you ran away from there, but—’ ‘Certainly I ran away,’ she said, meeting his gaze with defiance in her own. He had changed her life dramatically, and she had missed him dreadfully. Not for me. The galleries adjoining it were crowded with spectators,—so was the roof of a large tavern, then the only house standing at the end of the Edgeware Road,—so were the trees,—the walls of Hyde Park,—a neighbouring barn, a shed,—in short, every available position. October arrived; and in another week the court would be sitting at the Old Bailey. "Once there," proceeded Wild, without noticing the interruption, "he's as good as in his grave. A door slammed. His wife met him at the door, and into her hands he delivered his little charge.
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