"Yes; I know I look it," said O'Higgins, amiably. She seemed to have recovered herself as he returned, but rose as if she would go back to the saloon. Drawing a pistol, and unclosing his lantern with the quickness of thought, he then burst through an open trap-door into a small loft. She liked the high, easy swing of the thing over its big wheels, the quick clatter-patter of the horse, the passage of the teeming streets. ‘Leave it, imbecile.
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