You are my prisoner, murderer. ” She patted his arm and wiped her tears away. Wood sank, submissively, into a chair, while his daughter hastened to execute her arbitrary parent's commission. “Wise! Kind! What mockery words are! I came because I had to. Look in the small hide-bound book that he keeps in his boot. ’ ‘Je m’en moque. Perhaps he had had money in the coat, back in Hong-Kong, and had been robbed without knowing it. “Go on,” he said. But I will never—never return. ‘How is this? Proo-den-ss.
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