" "Anything, my dear," replied Wood, "What is it?" "Bury us together in one grave in Willesden churchyard. "I have killed her," cried Jack. It isn't as if he were stricken with typhoid or pneumonia or something like that. That old chap has a remarkable range in reading. Naturally you shout yourself hoarse when she has finished, and feel jolly pleased with yourself. Ruth Enschede, Hartford, Conn.
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