5. "I will, when I catch him, rely on it," rejoined Wild. The more haste, the worse speed—better the feet slip than the tongue. She tolerated spitballs in her curly hair and had to buy a new backpack when hers was stolen. "Is it by lettin' you go, my darlin', that I'm to airn it?" inquired Terence. At the period of this history, the main streets of the metropolis were but imperfectly lighted, while the less-frequented avenues were left in total obscurity; but, even at the present time, the maze of courts and alleys into which Wild now plunged, would have perplexed any one, not familiar with their intricacies, to thread them on a dark night. A little love from him would be enough. I do—with all my heart. Cursed him for his devotion that had made him come back for her, only to get himself shot by the fiendish Gosse.
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