I deemed it more prudent to send him to the Dark House than to bring him here, in case of any search after him by his adoptive father—the carpenter Wood. I believe he’s divorced. I know all. An old man with a bent back who limped in, slow and stiff, leaning heavily on a cane. “While we were minding the children they stole our rights and liberties. ‘Don’t, miss,’ uttered the boy.
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