“Too late, my dear girl,” she exclaimed. The Chinamen raised the limp body and carried it to the hall staircase, up which they mounted laboriously. Again he rushed. He dodged the boot this time, and smashed his left upon the Wastrel's lips, leaving them bloody pulp. ‘What is this proof?’ ‘I will not tell you. ‘Dieu du ciel, but answer me!’ Martha’s eyes were swimming again, and she reached out. " "Suffer me to proceed," replied the stranger.
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