By the time she arrived at the Beck’s doorstep, the morning was risen. Gerald guessed she was biting her tongue on an explosive retort as she eyed him. But this afternoon it discovered an unusual vein of irritability in her. "I cannot climb the boat. I want to make my own selection. But she had loved the man. He had taken it back. Beneath these prints, a cluster of hobnails, driven into the wall, formed certain letters, which, if properly deciphered, produced the words, "Paul Groves, cobler;" and under the name, traced in charcoal, appeared the following record of the poor fellow's fate, "Hung himsel in this rum for luv off licker;" accompanied by a graphic sketch of the unhappy suicide dangling from a beam. He looked the boy over with interest. She looked about and discovered a door partially hidden by shadow.
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