The fates are never so kind to me. He could quite understand the daughter of Mr. " "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell. Bête, she told herself fiercely. A white man, wandering about the streets of Canton at night, was a challenge to such a catastrophe. He forces an engagement upon her. “Was he really?” She asked, waiting on baited breath. Slowly a mirthless and very unpleasant smile dawned upon his face.
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