If only she had thought to plunge the scissors into her own heart! Hoddy … to return and find her either gone or dead! But even as the Wastrel's arms gathered her, there came the sound of hurrying steps on the veranda. “My brother’s room when he comes home. McClintock does it; and he knows why. "It is the fiend!" she exclaimed, recoiling. That’s all. It feels like too much gold-dust clutched in one’s hand. Death belongs to God, young man.
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