" At the mention of the latter occurrence, a dark cloud gathered upon the stranger's brow. ’ Gerald eyed her. The costume of this personage was somewhat singular, and might have passed for a masquerading habit, had not the imperturbable gravity of his demeanour forbidden any such supposition. You are infatuated. THIS, this glissade, would be damned scoundrelism. Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. ‘I might have killed you,’ she snapped, ‘if only you did not say anything. \" She handed the ticket seller, a boy that looked to be all of eighteen years old, murder money that she had stolen from Dawn Plote's dead son, five dollars. “And how did you find us here?” “I called at Montague Street a few minutes after you had left. ” Her father declared there had been no difficulty.
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