"My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. It’s just to feel—one owns one’s self. And, if I'd my own way, I'd drown 'em all like a litter o' puppies. ” Chapter X THE TRAGEDY OF AN APPETITE Anna, notwithstanding her quiet clothes, a figure marvellously out of accord with her surroundings, sat before a small marble-topped table at a crowded A. It was a tale of battle, murder, and sudden death on the New York waterfront.
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