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"Speak out—don't be alarmed," said Wood, in a kind and encouraging tone. It had ceased now, but as he closed in on the area, a faint muttering came to his ears. "Here!" shrieked Lady Trafford. Her aunt did not object to capital punishment or war, or the industrial system or casual wards, or flogging of criminals or the Congo Free State, because none of these things really got hold of her imagination; but she did object, she did not like, she could not bear to think of people not having and enjoying their meals. And she is very young, younger than her years. He looked distant, irritated. He held her hand in his, cupped together like a pair of shells for the rest of the hour. Down under the incalculable selfishness of the penitent child there was the man's uneasy recollection of Judas.
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