When she finished her last cadence, Carolyn and Thomas begged her to play encores. Certainly, we—that is Jarvis and I— knew nothing of it until after Mary’s death. That is so awful. The music throbbed into the warnings that preceded the king’s irruption. Before he could recover from the stunning effects of the blow, Wood possessed himself of the child: and, untying the noose which had been slipped round its throat, had the satisfaction of hearing it cry lustily.
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