He spoke only when he saw the sing-song girl he wanted to buy. ‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket. Presently she was going through a swaying, noisy crowd, whose faces grinned and stared pitilessly in the light of the electric standards. On this fresh outburst of the storm, Wood threw himself instinctively into the bottom of the boat, and clasping the little orphan to his breast, endeavoured to prepare himself to meet his fate.
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