You're Mister Wild's pris'ner, and worse luck to it!" "I don't ask you to liberate me," urged Thames; "but will you convey a message for me?" "Where to, honey?" "To Mr. ” She hesitated and looked for a moment straight into his eyes. If that's true, she's not long for this world. ” “It is Number 8, Cavendish Square,” she answered simply. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed.
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