Then as she lay very still, with her hands clinched and her black hair tumbled about her face, he came still closer and softly kissed the nape of her neck. "Take it," cried Wood, holding the infant towards her; "take it, and fly. What could I do at home? The other’s a crumple-up—just surrender. I can wield a quarterstaff as well as a prize-fighter, and have beaten Figg himself at the broadsword.
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