8. But—but how?’ ‘Can you write?’ Gerald asked, digging into one of his capacious pockets and bringing out a leather ring purse. She seized the key, and he grasped her hand and squeezed it roughly and painfully between the handle and the ward as she tried to turn it. " "I have a question to propose to you," said Trenchard, "relating to—" and he hesitated. “You have not feeling enough. As Jack departed, a dark figure, emerging from behind a wall, rushed after him. . ’ A sudden frown sprang to the fellow’s face. ‘I don’t propose doing anything with you. Keep his arms down. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. "Hush!" she said, putting her lean fingers to her lips.
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