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Sc. Wood did think of it, and groaned aloud. "Release your prisoner," continued Wood, "or the window is opened. You have converted me to—Lester Ward! You are my dear friend, you are a slip of a girl, but there are moments when my head has been on your breast, when your heart has been beating close to my ears, when I have known you for the goddess, when I have wished myself your slave, when I have wished that you could kill me for the joy of being killed by you. ‘Dear me. For a nun at night it is less dangerous than for the jeune demoiselle. But—he was cleverer than any of you. She had thought that all Morningside Park householders came home before seven at the latest, as her father usually did. Ah, but she could remember; and many things there were that she would never forgive. I pity her from the bottom of my heart. "Oh, lud! what's that?" exclaimed a female voice, from an adjoining room. ’ ‘Then you’re mad,’ Roding said flatly, and suddenly grinned.
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