The looming face was 71 over her own once again, and arms as strong as iron bars held her down. The curtain tinkled as her head brushed it, but he neither saw nor heard. “You needn’t say a word more,” Mr. Wood, terrified by the wildness of her looks. He got off at Canal, and she exited behind the crowd. His eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy; he let out a sigh. ” “Of course you’re converted?” she said. His literary instincts were reviving. There were white men with families, a fine mission-house, and a club-house for cards and billiards.
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