” “I had to,” she repeated. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. They walked two by two to the car, looking the part of 267 two weary spouses supporting their drunken mates after an all-night bender. The Ragged Edge. Sharples received them at the threshold, and holding his lantern towards the prisoners to acquaint himself with their features, nodded to Quilt, between whom and himself some secret understanding seemed to subsist, and then closed and barred the door. To the point however. “You will go and see her,” he begged.
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