With great difficulty, Wood forced a path through the ruins. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. Go up and get my daughter so we can have some homemade pie. The whole force of the constables, jailers and others was required to keep the crowd out of the Hall. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. “Yes,” she answered, looking away.
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