Melusine did not try to fight her captor, for that would only make him angry. “Anna,” she moaned, “I am a jealous, ungrateful woman. The other kicked over the traces a bit, made rather a hit with her singing at some of those French places, and went the pace in a mild, ladylike sort of way. A certain irritation crept into his manner as he did so. He loaded the launch with a thousand pounds—all she could carry—and started home immediately after sundown; but even then he lost from a hundred to a hundred and fifty pounds before he had the stuff cached in McClintock's bamboo-covered sawdust pit. "And I want to thank you, too," supplemented Ruth. It is her duty to tell me, and I would not have her think that I had been trying to work upon your sympathies to learn her secrets. We dine at seven-thirty. She should leave sooner, but she just could not bear missing the event.
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