This morning he heard voices—McClintock's and the Wastrel's. CHAPTER VIII. A vast indifference settled down upon him. She had never felt so acutely the desire for free initiative, for a life unhampered by others. “You must send for the police at once, you know. “Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. “I will go,” he said.
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