The next morning she went out with her post-office savings bank-book, and telegraphed for a warrant to draw out all the money she had in the world. Meanwhile, after a consultation between Mr. ‘Who kills who?’ ‘Rot in hell,’ he snarled, panting, and managed to push himself forward and leap off the dais, running for the safety of the far aisle by the wall. ‘Go on up to the boy, my dear.
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