"Mur—der!" roared Wood, struggling to free himself from his assailant, by whom he was half strangled. "Will that do?" he added, returning it. “What ought you to do?” He began to produce his knowledge of the world for her benefit, jerkily and allusively, and with a strong, rank flavor of “savoir faire. She was a large, resilient girl, with a foolish smile, a still more foolish expression of earnestness, and a throaty contralto voice.
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