" "What am I to do to earn it?" asked Blueskin, with a disgusting leer,—"cut a throat—or throw myself at your feet—eh, my dear?" "Give me that child," returned the lady, with difficulty overcoming the loathing inspired by the ruffian's familiarity. It was like pouring a strong acid over dulled metal. As she drew off her skirt she felt something in the pocket, and remembered the letter which the commissionaire at the Carlton had given her.
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