"Harkye, Sir," rejoined Darrell; "one word before I move. "Read that. And tell Pottiswick to mend that lock we broke. “I mean to go to that dance! I meant to reason with you, but you won’t reason. You will be wearing your travelling dress, and no doubt you would prefer it. “Oh, yes,” the stranger remarked good-humouredly. "Mur—der!" roared Wood, struggling to free himself from his assailant, by whom he was half strangled. ” He sat like a man turned to stone.
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