There is turmoil, shouts, cries, jostlings, milling congestions that suddenly break and flow in opposite directions. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. " "Don't anger him, my dear son," implored the poor widow, with a look of anguish at Jack. " "How so?" inquired Winifred. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief.
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