"My name is Darrell," said the fugitive hastily. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. ’ She let out a peal of laughter. " "I can," rejoined Jack; "and you, too, old Aaron, if I'd a razor. We stepped from the Embassy into the motor—and oh! I thought that he was dead. ‘Grace à dieu, he breathes still.
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