‘I have Joan to tell me how much I look like Mary. If I can’t talk anywhere else—I DO want an understanding. I deemed it more prudent to send him to the Dark House than to bring him here, in case of any search after him by his adoptive father—the carpenter Wood. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. She chastised herself for thinking of her husband and lord as being weak.
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