’ A panel slid open and she stepped into the relative light of the little dressingroom, Kimble close behind her. "What does he say?" roared the long drover. “We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. I will light the stove, and there shall be some coffee presently. And will you look! His name neatly cut out from each title page. I know. Look at these walls. I secured the dog after he had wounded me. But where in the world was the girl? A door led to another chamber beyond. “John,” she said, “I can spare you that question.
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