She gathered her black purse, a pointless thing made of cardboard covered in sateen and bejeweled with an assortment of rhinestones. "Speak, or I fire!" "Well, if you will have it, it's Sir Rowland Trenchard. ” She took his hand and smiled upon him. Thwart me, and I become your mortal enemy. “No,” she answered. "See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. It was a pity he didn't break his neck, for he was hanged within the year. "You are my prisoner, Jack. By your own showing you are in easy circumstances,—for it is only natural to presume that a man who owes nothing must be in a condition to pay liberally,—and you cannot therefore feel the loss of such a trifle as ten guineas.
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