I never forgive an injury. ” The girl sat up and looked at him with a curious twist at the corners of her mouth —humorous or pathetic, he could not tell which. Or I should say—’ ‘Eugenia,’ cut in Gerald grimly. ‘By traitors I am surrounded!’ ‘Stop talking utter twaddle,’ ordered Roding, marching up to the desk. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision.
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