"What ho!" he cried slapping Smith, who had fallen asleep with the brandybottle in his grasp, upon the shoulder. The decision had been sound. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. Anna failed in her painting, our money was gone, and she was forced to earn her own living. Just because she was sorry for that young fool! "Uh-huh," he repeated, rising and bowing as he passed Ruth's table.
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