” “Have I done something wrong? Should I take you home?” “No. "I was in the right, you see, father," observed Thames, smiling; "Jack has done his task. ‘She? Sa femme? That is the game then? That she could dare to take my place, that salope. I've seen many a clever cracksman, but never one like him. She slipped out the window, jumping to the ground from the second story with very little sound. His energy began to slip away and she sank her teeth into his fat carotid artery below the piano wire, which had drawn blood from his neck. The wastrel, the ne'er-do-well, who went mostly nobly to a fine end. What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she.
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