Wood, ironically; "but I used to think it required something more than mere words to prove that a person's character was abused. "Constance is yet living. Courtlaw opened his lips, but remained silent in the face of her imperative gesture. Even the love of a mother does not sway him. Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. I don’t know. A large dog was then set at him by a stable-boy; but, striking the animal with his faithful iron-bar, he speedily sent him yelping back. It was the size of my palm. It is no more a murder, but a duel, you understand.
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