That is easy. And if the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. "No such thing," rejoined Thames. You must—you shall be mine. He suddenly became eloquent and plausible. ‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand. E.
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