"To-morrow night!" said Spurlock, in a wondering whisper. Do you accept it?" "Dear Thames!" "Forgive this ill-timed avowal of my love. Nab and Quilt to the door! Jack, you are my prisoner. " Prudence felt the hands stiffen oddly; and again the thought came to her that perhaps this poor child's father had once been, perhaps still was, in the same category as this Taber.
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