The tears were welling over now, but her voice was steady. The guests congregated within the night-cellar were, in fact, little better than thieves; but thieves who confined their depredations almost exclusively to the vessels lying in the pool and docks of the river. ’ Jack Kimble took a deep breath. The world into which she was so boldly venturing was going to be wonderful, but never so wonderful as the world within these paper covers. “John, don’t!” she cried. Picked up the photograph, looked at it, handed it back, and never batted an eye! The act was as clear as daylight, but the motive was as profoundly mysterious as the race itself.
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