‘What, and miss getting myself murdered?’ ‘She said she wouldn’t murder you. " "Well, well, since you desire it, I'll say no more," returned Wood. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. They flash to and fro, they thrill us with expectancy. ’ ‘That we shall see. ” She laid her fingers for a moment upon his arm. .
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