A thin line of red appeared in the white neck. If it came at all, it was as fleeting as the girl's smile. To a woman she might have confided; but to this man, kindly as he was, it was unthinkable. This morning he heard voices—McClintock's and the Wastrel's. The impassivity of her features changed at last. "Thames, I entreat—" "Your wishes are my laws, beloved, girl," replied Kneebone, bowing profoundly.
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