I don’t play anything. " "Arrested!" exclaimed Trenchard, drawing his sword. " "I think I remember reading something about your father in the papers," observed Wood. "And someday let him care for me!" She sprang up, alarmed. She so wanted to keep her memory of him fresh, so wanted to memorize his kisses and to conjure his embrace someday when he was mere dust in the ground. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed.
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