47 was no more than a sort of railway compartment on the way to that. " "You have no son," rejoined Sir Rowland, moodily. He then descended; and having induced Bess to take off some part of her clothing, he tore the gown and petticoat into shreds and twisted them into a sort of rope which he fastened to the lower bars of the window. If you had not brought your companion here, it would not have happened. She felt her canines grow, the hunger consuming her.
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