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Wood could stand it no longer. ‘While you are making me this interrogation, my poor Jacques bleeds to death. The manager had sketched the girl's character, or rather had interpreted it, from the incidents which had happened since dinner. . “Get out of the car. "Sir Rowland," he added, savagely, and with somewhat of the look of a bull-dog before he flies at his foe, "if it were my pleasure to do so, I could crush you with a breath. "Her blood be upon her own head, then," replied Rowland, sternly. Slowly, he drew back his head and looked into her face.
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