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“Thank you,” she said coolly. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. ‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. It was at lunch when McClintock announced that in the mailpouch he had found a letter addressed to Howard Taber, care of Donald McClintock and so-forth. What right had she to call herself “Alcide”? It was abominable, an imposture. "The poor young man!" sighed Angelina. What are you after?’ ‘But my pistol and dagger, imbecile,’ she exclaimed impatiently, moving sharply back. ” “H’m!” said Ann Veronica, and shook her head.
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