If Martha knew all, she would certainly die of shock. Wood trembled. "But calm yourself, dear sister, or the interview will be too much for you. The red glare fell upon the slimy brick-work, and tinged the inky waters below. CHAPTER XXIII. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. “Why? Do you think I’m a stoner?” He asked.
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