Down that on the right the young culprit was dragged—along that on the left a fainting woman was borne in the arms of several females. Obviously he is still interested. Time after time he sent Spurlock into this corner or that; but always the boy regained his feet before the murderous boot could reach the mark. “She’s my wife,” the man muttered. The other was to go into business—into a photographer’s reception-room, for example, or a costumer’s or hat-shop. By now the horses would be rested and he might go as swiftly back again.
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