By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. " "But Wild still lives," cried Wood. Then he sat down again in a chair and said that people who wrote novels ought to be strung up. “I can’t endure it,” she said. “But have you ever thought that you might be attracting negative attention to yourself by looking like you do? Like I said, don’t take it personally. ’ Kimble chewed his lip, but his hostility was visibly lessening. “You may call anytime.
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