Man's fate is in his own hands. " Jonathan gave utterance to a torrent of imprecations. Wood turned to look at him. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. The stranger looked at him as if strongly disposed to chastise his impertinence. Very well! I will try to help you. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. Accounts were now always where he could put his hand on them.
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