Then she goes to a dramatic agent. " "Ha!" exclaimed Jack, drawing in his breath, and leaning forward with intense curiosity. "I have not many days,—perhaps, not many hours to live. “So you found Rhea, I see. I want my freedom. The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword. On the fifth day he had ventured speech with her. ‘Still—here? Wasting your—time.
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