" "You're a damn fool, too!" exploded the trader. Who could say that the two weren't in collusion? When a chap like Spurlock jumped the traces, cherchez la femme, every time. He was plainly attired in a riding-dress and boots of the period, and wore a hanger by his side. Her head swam. The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate. ‘You ought to be glad someone cares enough about your wretched little neck to try and save it. I may want you. Well, I've had to be. . " "Hoddy," she repeated.
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