"But I wish her hand had been as deadly as yours. Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. The man is a stranger to me. I'm a stickler about clothes and clean chins. Afterwards we started for a motor ride to a place outside Paris for déjeuner, and I suppose the man’s nerve failed him. CHAPTER XII.
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