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Wood, however, made known his presence to the individual by laying his hand upon his shoulder. The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. "It's too late to carry 'em before a magistrate now, Sir Rowland; so, with your permission, I'll give 'em a night's lodging in Saint Giles's round-house. He drew her to him with his hands upon her waist.
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