He meditated, and began a new paragraph. I really cannot have anything to do with Mr. It was a dark mysterious place, and what it was used for no one exactly knew; but it was called by those who had seen it the Well Hole. There was a murmur or two among the watchers on the bench, but no one ventured to intervene again. There are also the letters which were scattered about Wild's room after the murder of Sir Rowland. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you. There he stands. “I say!” he cried.
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