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As she looked in this direction, the thief-taker raised his eyes—those gray, blood-thirsty eyes!—their glare froze the life-blood in her veins. After all, what could happen? He was looking at her very hard and earnestly. ’ For the moment I thought it was a telegram from Gwen. Others are smart but fall prey to emotional damage, the female lunar instinct of cunning that goes awry. It is not for myself I fear. Spurling, and her now accepted suitor, resumed their seats. "My son! my dear, dear son!" returned Mrs.
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