Before Wood had time to inquire into the cause of this sound, his attention was diverted by a man, who rushed past the entry with the swiftness of desperation. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. Recurrently she heard: "I don't know; I really don't know. I examined the Condemned Hold myself carefully this morning, and didn't find a nail out of its place. .
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