"Fly!" cried Jack; "escape if you can; don't mind me. You will have a bungalow to yourself," continued McClintock, "and your morning meal will be your own affair. They fell into step again. The other kicked over the traces a bit, made rather a hit with her singing at some of those French places, and went the pace in a mild, ladylike sort of way. "Hell's curses!" muttered Jonathan between his teeth; "that fool will ruin all. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street.
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