Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. "But are you really there?" "No, I'm here," answered Jack, leaping down. Fancying they were alone, Sir Rowland threw aside his cloak, and produced a heavy bag of money, which he flung upon the table; and, when Wild had feasted his greedy eyes sufficiently upon its golden contents, he handed him a pocketbook filled with notes. It was the one that she had sworn she’d throw out, if only Julian had not liked it so much. " "I always detested Mrs. "Follow me, Thames," cried Jack, dropping into the chasm.
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