“I believe that he would bore me. All this muddle to placate his conscience! "Here—quick!" McClintock thrust a cigar into Spurlock's hand. What a mercy that the blow aimed at her by the ruffian, Wild, though it brought her to the brink of the grave, should have restored her to reason! Ah! she stirs. “I will MAKE you love me! Until he has faded—faded into a memory.
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