Wood's dwelling,—a plain, substantial, commodious farm-house. Even in her own sorry skin-and-bones state of wraithlike pallor and gray under eye circles she was drawing unwanted attention from would-be admirers. "Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. She had had to do away with many a leering foster father since she had started frequenting foster homes in the middle of the century.
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