" "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. Afterward goes on to Oxford. "He can't escape. I do not desire to extenuate my guilt—far less to defend it; but I would show you, and such as you —who, happily, are exempted from trials like mine—how much misery has to do with crime. She fell with a plop onto her rear end in the mud and sat dumbly like a statue, water eddying around her. Besides, it is all reversed now, you know. .
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