Spurlock bent his head to the rail. With the usual precautions, Austin then departed. "Pick up that blade, Nab," vociferated Wild, finding himself hotly pressed, "and stab him. He backed away from her. He whispered in her ear. She did not understand the note of hostility to men that ran through it all, the bitter vindictiveness that lit Miss Miniver’s cheeks and eyes, the sense of some at last insupportable wrong slowly accumulated. I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth.
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