“To begin with, I was—I was in the divorce court. It was something that would create a mutual claim, a relationship. But after all, Mrs. What was the alternative to going home? No alternative appeared in that darkness. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. "Ah! what is that?" he cried, pointing to a dark object floating near them amid the boiling waves, and which presented a frightful resemblance to a human face. A brief calm succeeded.
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