Wood, who had merely absented himself to see that a public breakfast, which he had ordered at the Six Bells for all who chose to partake of it, was in readiness. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. “Let me show you something. Sheppard in the asylum, and take her this, and send her that;—and I've never prevented you, though such mistaken liberality's enough to provoke a saint. I’m sorry.
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