" "Are you friendly toward him?" asked McClintock, passing a fine cigar across the table. " "What right have you to suppose this, Sir?" demanded Trenchard, sternly. Swinging her arm in an arc, she let go of the foil and it flew across the chapel towards the main door, crashing down between the pews, and clattering onto the floor. You may go back, Marthe. " CHAPTER XIII.
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