There was no point in rushing into the long walk home. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. "Of course," rejoined the bystander, who had just spoken, and who was of a cynical turn,—"the greater the rascal, the better they like him. ’ Gerald grinned. I would even make over my engagement to you, if Mr. But what the deuce! He was human; he was a machine only when on the hunt. CHAPTER III.
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