270 “Curse that boy!” He chuckled and stomped the water. “I knew you wouldn’t mind. Then perhaps it is Prudence?’ ‘Oh la la! That is not me at all. "Dead!" echoed the boy. Our heads swim with the thought of being together. That it provided proof of the girl’s identity was one thing. The screams of the unfortunate woman had aroused Thames from his slumbers. There was only one idea in his head now—to batter and bruise and crush this weakling, then cast him at the feet of his love-lorn wife.
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