“Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. I want to put myself into your hands. “Do not force me to take you seriously,” she continued. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. “I would give my life for you. Woof! What a dog. Only promise me to amend—to quit your vile companions—and I will forgive you—will bless you.
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