He was heartily thankful for it. On reflection, it occurred to him that he might, perhaps, be able to loosen the iron fillet; a notion no sooner conceived than executed. ‘They’ve gone, miss,’ came the answer, muffled through the panel door. “Idiots!” she said, when she heard this pandemonium, and with particular reference to this young lady with the throaty contralto next door. "You thank Heaven for the escape of the man who did his best to get your child's neck twisted.
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