“Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights. " "Here is the sum you bargained for," rejoined Trenchard, flinging a pocket-book on the table; "count it. ’ A sudden frown sprang to the fellow’s face. Did he track her? She was unaware if he did.
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