Then he sat down again in a chair and said that people who wrote novels ought to be strung up. You'll do. "My name will only be remembered as that of a robber," he mused; "but it shall be remembered as that of a bold one: and this night's achievement, if it does nothing else, shall prevent me from being classed with the common herd of depredators. He felt her warm breath upon his cheek, the perfume of her hair as she leaned over him. He turned to Ruth and McClintock.
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