"What for?" demanded Wood. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. "It is," replied Sheppard. Her heavy pistol came up again, although she did not rise. Then, naturally, I went on talking. And for my part, if I were inclined to exercise my benevolence at all, it should be in favour of some more deserving object than that whining, hypocritical Magdalene.
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