He did not pocket it, but sat hefting it lightly from hand to hand, watching the girl thoughtfully. “You belong to me,” he said fiercely; “the marriage certificate is in my pocket. May I go on a date tomorrow night with John Diedermayer?\" She did not look at Mike, who she knew would be wounded. "Harkye, Sir," rejoined Darrell; "one word before I move.
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