Come back—you must come back. Meantime, the Stone Hall was crowded by all the inmates of the jail, debtors, felons, turnkeys, and officers who could obtain permission to witness the ceremony of the prisoner's irons being struck off. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. To settle things, you know. " "Not now, my love—not now," entreated Wood. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket.
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