Her eyebrows were lifted in expostulation. A vein of conviction mingled with his burlesque. She had come to the end of her resources. ” “I began to be afraid you might not come at all. Mr. Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant. “Yes, I will go,” she promised, with a queer little smile. If you attempt to play the traitor, you will do so at the hazard of your life.
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