" "If I do, I care not," rejoined Wild; "I shall have lived to see you hanged. Water poured into her eyes, nose, and mouth in a torrent from which she had to turn and wheeze. She gazed with a quiet detachment toward the window and the Oxford Street traffic, and in her heart she was busy kicking this man to death. His red hair marked him, cut short into a round shape that had the texture of a Brillo pad. I wonder if I should have locked you up if I’d been your father. ‘Sir?’ enquired the lad.
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