CHAPTER II. Wood's cries: but, regardless of this, he darted along a passage, gained the shop, and passed through an open door into the street. Jack was not half your age when he died. But the general was turning on him, the hint of emotion wiped from his lined features. “Then why the devil,” he demanded, “do you let me stand you dinners and the opera—and why do you come to a cabinet particuliar with me?” He became radiant with anger.
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