She stumbled through a thorny copse, her slippers sliding on patches of sand that gave way to rock. “I hope you have not come for that. There she would wander about in the kindly darkness. “You must not think of me as one. Befuddle yourself, if you want to. "Once there," proceeded Wild, without noticing the interruption, "he's as good as in his grave. Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses.
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