Ah!" he exclaimed, as his eye fell upon a small knob in the wall, "there's the spring!" He touched it, and the door flew open. “Last time I saw you,” he reminded her, “you spoke, did you not, of obtaining some employment in London. I hope we may never find her again. Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. Now I shall never hear it but what this evening will come pouring back over me. While he thus vented his rage, the door again opened, and Quilt Arnold rushed into the room, bleeding, and half-dressed.
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