I'll put you aboard The Tigress to-morrow after sundown. When Mr. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. He watched her, savoring her curious attention. His manner was deferential, even eager. "God forgive me for using such a word!" he cried, in a troubled tone; "if I hadn't yielded to my wife's silly request, this wouldn't have happened!" CHAPTER VII.
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