CHAPTER XXIX. She was writhing to get her hands loose and found herself gasping with passionate violence, “It’s damnable!—damnable!” to the manifest disgust of the fatherly policeman on her right. "Well, without immediate care he would have passed out. Sheppard!" sighed Winifred, as she contemplated the beautiful wreck before her,—"Poor Mrs. Good-bye aunt. " So saying, he sprang, with a bound like that of a tiger-cat, against the throat of the woollen-draper. From his wallet he brought forth a yellow letter.
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