"Your son," answered the boy. You’ll come along of me, for you’re under arrest, too. "By all means," returned Wood; "don't delay an instant. He was so depressed and disheartened that he did not then believe he would ever write again. The major hailed him with a show of relief. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. "Our talking will not bother him. Don't be afraid—I won't hurt you.
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