His eyes were bright, and his voice had in it an unaccustomed timbre. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. " "Offer them my hearty thanks," replied Jack, waving his hand to the group, all of whom returned the salutation. Gently each time Ruth drew down the arms. "I cannot—dare not injure him," rejoined Trenchard, with a haggard look, and sinking, as if paralysed, into a chair. What a fool I was to separate the two in my mind. She no more realizes what she has done than a child of eight. Let me go, Sir. If they come here to walk around, they will hear us.
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