That was the inconvenience of it; her head was swimming. What was his astonishment to recognise in the few words they uttered the voices of Kneebone and Winifred! The latter was apparently in great distress, and the former seemed to be using his best efforts to relieve her anxiety. Take my child to—it is—oh God!—I am sinking—take it—take it!" "Where?" shouted Wood. “My dear boy,” she exclaimed. Lucy had passed the house once on the sidewalk, on a rare day when he was shoveling snow. But ere the words could find utterance, her maternal tenderness overcame her indignation; and, sinking upon her knees, she extended her arms over her child.
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