Vexation at his folly in suffering himself to be thus entrapped kept Wood for a short time silent. “I never wanted to kick any one so much in my life as that second fellow. ‘Will you—what was it?—“blow off his head”?’ Melusine eyed her, a little uncertain. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. "What can it matter to you whether he returns or not, child," rejoined Mrs. She opened it and imbibed. "By all means," rejoined Quilt. "I knew he would," replied the Amazon.
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