This intelligence, which she instantly communicated to the carpenter, drove him almost frantic. 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. It reminded her of one of the old tales her mother Marina had told her about a sculptor named Farhat. Proof? There is someone who might be willing to help. When you send for me I shall come back. Wood, at the top of her voice.
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