“MY DEAR GIRL,— “I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night. 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. 1. ‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged. I could not have spoken to her. It has instead found you. F. ‘Come, come, ma’am,’ he said smiling.
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