“I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already. " "What gives you that idea?" "Well, we could find no letter of credit, no letters, no labels in his clothes—not a single clew to his real identity. " "Willingly," replied Wild. "Two hundred pounds!" exclaimed Ireton, "besides the governor's offer—that's three hundred. Man's fate is in his own hands. ’ ‘Are we to infer that he had a choice?’ enquired Gerald. But there have been times, Anna, when your work has startled me. For a long time to come that would naturally be the theme of any story he undertook to write. . The general did what he might to hush it up, and paid handsomely to manage it, I daresay.
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