They had heard nothing, seen nothing. This morning he heard voices—McClintock's and the Wastrel's. Wood, who had worked herself into a passion; "and, I'll warrant 'em, the boldest robber among 'em shall repent it, if he comes across me. I am having them to my own soirée on Monday. He rose at once to his feet and turned a white face upon her. Look at the poor victim at your feet.
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