She had trouble outwitting him as he seemed to predict her words before he said them. " "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same. "By my shalvation, boy," he added, fiercely, "if you don't take your hande off my peard, I'll sthrangle you. “Thank you—and good-bye. His eyes swept down and Melusine felt the quiver at her lips where he gazed. And if he didn’t, what was the good of seeing him? “I wish he was a woman,” she said, “then I could make him my friend.
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