"Allow him that small grace," cried Wood. " The girl fished into the bottle for an olive. “Concern me!” she repeated fiercely. All that confidence, born of irony, disappeared; and fear laid hold of him. “Get me someone, Oracle. He seemed to do ten things before she could think to do one, to leap upon her and take possession. “It was poison—why not?” she answered. It may be useful to you.
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