" And, with the uninjured hand he drew a pistol, which he fired, but without effect, at Jack. ‘I suppose you think I can’t manage it myself,’ had complained Captain Roding sarcastically. “I’ll bring it to-morrow. Rather! Who could help it?” He towered up over her and smiled down at her in his fatherly way. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. “Just like old times,” she thought sardonically.
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