ToC The day appointed for the execution was now close at hand, and the prisoner, who seemed to have abandoned all hopes of escape, turned his thoughts entirely from worldly considerations. Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that surveyed its operations. ‘What, miss?’ asked Jack Kimble from behind her. The telegram dispatched, his obligation cancelled, Ah Cum proceeded homeward, chuckling occasionally. I do not say guest because that suggests friendship; and I am no friend of this Wastrel.
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