Wood's house at Dollis Hill on Tuesday'—that's two days ago,—'hasn't been heard of since. I believe I am doomed to be an old maid. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. "So he may," rejoined Abraham, aloud, "so he may. I owe his mother one, and will repay the debt, with interest, to her son. He got out of the car and lifted her from the convertible before she could open the door. Wood's house was broken into and plundered. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book.
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