I killed him, Nigel. “I do mean that,” she declared. She pulled, he rose to his feet. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. No, I thank you. Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. Always I have said I will take care of myself, and I have done so. CHAPTER XIII.
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