Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. She had lost her sense of direction, and was among unfamiliar streets. "No, I won't hear you, murderer," rejoined Wood. She looked up quickly. "I'm glad to find I'm right. Very soon she would be able to forget it. "Who took it thence?" "Thames Darrell; the boy at your side.
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