We dine at seven-thirty. He's neighbourly; he has a jingle for every ache and joy I've had. “You silly wimmin,” he said over and over again throughout the hearing, plucking at his blotting-pad with busy hands. " "I should like to satisfy myself on that score," rejoined Wild, drily. "Write as I dictate," he cried, placing a pen in the jailer's hand and a pistol to his ear. The young officer sat in front, his hat perfectly straight.
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