’ ‘Comment? You wish to murder me?’ ‘No, I wish to beat you,’ he retorted. Jack's complexion was that of a gipsy; Darrell's as fresh and bright as a rose. Anna held out her hand, and he paused. He was plainly attired in a riding-dress and boots of the period, and wore a hanger by his side. If she spoke to a policeman she did not know what would ensue. “I believe she’s dressing up-stairs—now.
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