The passion of pent-up speech compelled action of some sort. Instead, they appeared to be at the hygienic level of tramps’ lodging-houses. Stay! I'll go myself. " The hint was not lost upon Wood. He must be more or less of an age with this man. But men are so careless, there's no trusting anything to them! However, I must try to brazen it out. The echo of those kindly words seemed still to ring in her ears. Her eyes were soft and grave, and there was the faintest of smiles upon her resolute lips. I’m not Gerald, remember. CHAPTER XII.
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