’ The eyes flashed momentarily. “There’s another instinct, too,” he went on, “in a state of suppression, unless I’m very much mistaken; a child-expelling instinct. I know all about it. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. To work then he went, and with wonderful industry filed off two of the iron bars. From time to time the man below would shout, and the boy would let the threads go with the snap of a harpist, only to recover them instantly.
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