In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. Do you live here?" "Not exactly," answered the carpenter. ‘And she’s—’ She broke off, a sudden light in her eyes. "Damnation!" exclaimed Wild with a snarl, that displayed his glistening fangs to the farthest extremity of his mouth, "I'm not to be trifled with thus. And if you mean to use that dagger to slip the lock, you’ll make enough noise to bring ten spies down on us.
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