"There's the house," said Jack, pointing to a pretty cottage, the small wooden porch of which was covered with roses and creepers, with a little trim garden in front of it. “In Paris our lives were far apart, and we had seldom the same friends. Both advanced towards it, when, by the light of the lantern, Wood beheld, in the countenance of the stranger, the well-remembered and stern features of Rowland. ” “What case?” “A divorce—or something—I don’t know. " "Wood's daughter, I suppose?" observed the other.
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