The knife is at my breast. Farewell. With a curt command to her cavalier to get up on the box and give the direction to the interested coachman, he jumped in beside the girl and shut them both into privacy. Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. The poor old imbecile! Why, this child was a firebrand, a wrecker, if ever he had seen one; and the worst kind because she was unconscious of her gifts. ” “Mary, please don’t cry.
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