Wood; "I'll not bear it. Luckily I’m not. "Write as I dictate," he cried, placing a pen in the jailer's hand and a pistol to his ear. In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter. "It was some time before I could get him to move. "He never let me keep a dog or a cat about the house.
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