"By my shalvation, boy," he added, fiercely, "if you don't take your hande off my peard, I'll sthrangle you. I won’t try. Once he had managed to stake his claim, she would have all to do to prove her identity and win it back. ‘You are, I think, a gentleman, no?’ Gerald bowed. Sheppard, meekly. How long he sat there, reeling off this drivel, he never knew. There are cigarettes and magazines in the corner there. Ruth is not another man's wife; she is all your own, for better or for worse. I’m not half smart enough for the West End. "I cannot—dare not injure him," rejoined Trenchard, with a haggard look, and sinking, as if paralysed, into a chair.
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