Courtlaw stood up. "Heaven help us!" he exclaimed; "we were mad to neglect the old sailor's advice. I've foiled him hitherto, and will foil him yet. If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand.
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