’ He nodded. "It is addressed to my mother," he added, as his eye glanced rapidly over it, "and by my father. " "Look at it, then," said Wild, giving him the portfolio. " "Who's lost?" demanded Ireton. In this moment he could have stamped upon the Wastrel's face, and ended the affair; but all that was clean in him, chivalrous, revolted at the thought. She glanced into his face.
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