In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. He was bringing the sing-song girl to the hotel! The strange cortège presently vanished below the window-sill. “You know I’m old-fashioned, Miss Stanley. Two shots were fired at him by Jonathan; one of which passed through his hat, and the other through the fleshy part of his arm; but he made good his retreat. Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness.
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