\" He piped up. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. She looked at him confusedly, his black hair glinting under the dim lights. In a moment he was beside her. "But I tell you frankly, and Mr. You have neither reason nor logic. Are you now satisfied?" "No," interposed Wood, furiously, "I shall never be satisfied till I see you hanged on the highest gibbet at Tyburn.
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