“I killed him. Wood, who had been absent on business during the greater part of the day, returned (perhaps not altogether undesignedly) at an earlier hour than was expected, to his dwelling in Wych Street, Drury Lane; and was about to enter his workshop, when, not hearing any sound of labour issue from within, he began to suspect that an apprentice, of whose habits of industry he entertained some doubt, was neglecting his employment. She was about to rush to his side, when she saw his clenched hands rise and fall upon the sand repeatedly. Sure, I lose one occasionally—if he stays in New York. Once more breaking through the hedge he took to the fields.
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