" "Yes, there was one," observed Ireton. "Nothing whatever," rejoined the thief-taker, coldly. He took a handful of the gravelly mud, with which the platform was covered, and threw the small pebbles, one by one, towards the gleam. There was a lapse of time, an interval of blackness; then he found his hand in hers and she was leading him at a run up the side of the mountain. ” He would say every time she wore it.
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