Some shadow of reserve seemed to have crept up between them. She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me.
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