Still no sound. Why should she? she asked rebelliously. Drummond took up a cigarette and lit it. Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. This salute of his—actually the first she could remember—while it did not disturb her, began to lead her thoughts into new channels of speculation. That is why Wall Street broke your father; he was honest. Jonathan had to feel his way.
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