Her glasses moved quickly as her glance travelled from face to face. " "I will die first," replied Mrs. She tiptoed to the stand and gathered up the manuscripts which she carried to a chair by the window. "By all means," returned Wood; "don't delay an instant. You understand what I mean. But they will also find you. I have written, called—of what avail is anything—against that look. Kneebone. You sent back my Christmas checks.
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