"Thank Heaven!" she gasped. Mike answered the door while still toweling his hands dry. Baptist Kettleby (for so was the Master named) was a "goodly portly man, and a corpulent," whose fair round paunch bespoke the affection he entertained for good liquor and good living. “I cannot conceive,” he said, “how any other occupation could ever have occurred to you. Pull over there. He was into the passage in time to see her slip into another chamber at the end. Suddenly she felt her wrist grasped by a strong hand. She felt sickeningly empty. You should have more. Opening a pair of large black eyes, the child fixed them for an instant upon Wood, and then, alarmed by the light, uttered a low and melancholy cry, which, however, was speedily stilled by the caresses of his mother, towards whom he extended his tiny arms, as if imploring protection. .
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