What had urged her to wrench loose and fly was the guarding instinct of the good woman. Having ascertained by the breathing which room Thames occupied, he speedily contrived to fasten him in. Wood uttered something like an imprecation. The crowner's 'quest sat on her yesterday—and if she hadn't been proved out of her mind, she would have been buried at four lane-ends. “You are of the genus obstinate,” he said.
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