Both advanced towards it, when, by the light of the lantern, Wood beheld, in the countenance of the stranger, the well-remembered and stern features of Rowland. The path he had selected conducted him to his mother's humble dwelling. The room they were in was a sort of closet, with the door locked outside; but this was only a moment's obstacle to Jack, who with a chisel forced back the bolt. Drink the toast, Jack. I never had even a real doll," she added, as she snuggled the flea-bitten head to her heart.
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