The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. The feeling of last days grew stronger with her as their number diminished. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. He used to call it his fire-escape—ha! ha! I've often used the ladder for my own convenience, but I never expected to turn it to such good account. If not, keep up your spirits. What will you give me to save you from your pursuers?" "Can you do so?" asked the other, doubtfully. “I didn’t think you’d come.
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