There was no marriage, and I hated, oh, how I hated the man. Suddenly the Wastrel took hold of the edge and flung the table aside. "What's that?" demanded McClintock. Before he could recover from the stunning effects of the blow, Wood possessed himself of the child: and, untying the noose which had been slipped round its throat, had the satisfaction of hearing it cry lustily. “You really couldn’t ride in it,” he said, deprecatingly.
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