" The hint was not lost upon Wood. He saw three people: a young man at the piano, an elderly man smoking in a corner, and a young woman reclining in a chair, her eyes closed. Prudence attacked her chicken wing. Meantime, the Stone Hall was crowded by all the inmates of the jail, debtors, felons, turnkeys, and officers who could obtain permission to witness the ceremony of the prisoner's irons being struck off. He took into his soul some of the father's misery, some of the daughter's, to mingle with his own. Jolly nice girl, too. "'Odd's-my-life!—what's that?" he cried, greatly alarmed. She was unusually helpful at breakfast, and unselfish about the eggs: and then she went off to catch the train before her father’s. He handed Ruth a letter. “And, you know, you’re altering us all. That’s all. "Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. It was an intimate smell, the unmistakable scent of him and another woman.
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