Wood, in his Sunday habiliments and Sunday buckle. " "I forgot to mention there's a trifling reward for his capture," cried Shotbolt, popping his head from under the cloth. She leaned back in the cab with half-closed eyes. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. Their faces were masks of abject horror, sunken and shriveled, their cheekbones protruding. " "But a man may love his wife!" cried Spurlock, utterly bewildered.
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