Her anger died and she eyed him. Enfeebled by his wound, Wild had lost much of his strength, though nothing of his ferocity and energy,—and fiercely assailing Blueskin, he made a desperate but unsuccessful attempt to apprehend him. “Is your husband here to-night?” he asked. ‘But I have the pistol,’ Gerald pointed out. Good-bye. When they reached her rooms she stepped lightly out upon the pavement. He felt no pain from this cowardly kick.
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