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If there was a Yankee bar-keep in HongKong, James Boyle would soon locate him. "Dog!" cried Wild, freeing himself by a powerful effort, and dealing Jack a violent blow with the heavy bludgeon, which knocked him backwards, "you are not yet a match for Jonathan Wild. He looked at her for a moment in a puzzled sort of way. You are wholly in my power. He felt her warm breath upon his cheek, the perfume of her hair as she leaned over him. Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul. Burn your palette and your easel. It was a great relief to arrive at last at that pause when she could say to her aunt, “Now, dear?” and rise and hold back the curtain through the archway.
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