His voice now had lost its ironies. After Gwen!” “I sent a telegram. ’ Rather to his surprise, she obeyed this injunction as he led her up two flights of stairs to the first floor. " "Too proud, eh?" rejoined the prize-fighter. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. Look out, it’s coming.
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