He paced faster, stomping around. He had gained admission somehow, and he too was waiting for Anna. His eyes looked a little bloodshot to her; his face had lost something of its ruddy freshness. In the grate were some charred fragments of a marriage certificate. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. Wood,—the person whom you may remember adopted him,—at Dollis Hill, near Willesden; and it's a singular but fortunate circumstance, so far as we are concerned, that Mrs. Nor Jacques.
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