In fact, Gerald had given order to the coachman to drive out of Golden Square and then stop around the corner. " CHAPTER XIII. You could return to civilization and have a good time all the rest of your days. Giving him a wide berth, and keeping her pistol high, she made her way to the door and warily peered through it. "Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. I'm thinking that the Wastrel was one day a celebrated professional; and the women were partly the cause of his fall. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. Listening attentively, he fancied he heard the breathing of some one near him, and moved cautiously in the opposite direction.
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