The tree-lined streets were silent except for the sporadic revving of glass packs down Church Avenue. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. To-night she could have hugged both the old maids. "Enough!" cried Jonathan, eagerly pocketing the memorandum. Gay, I've been in many odd quarters of our city—have visited haunts frequented only by thieves—the Old Mint, the New Mint, the worst part of St.
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