The youth produced a crumpled-up card from his waistcoat pocket. " "Keep it," said Trenchard, haughtily. Where her husband saw only two youngsters in the mating mood, she felt that tragedy in some phase lurked in this room—if only in the loneliness of these two, without kith or kin apparently, thousands of miles from home. The Bitchster strikes again. "Curse him!" muttered Abraham.
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