Down under the incalculable selfishness of the penitent child there was the man's uneasy recollection of Judas. Figg," said Jack. ‘Sergeant Trodger is who I am. There was only one idea in his head now—to batter and bruise and crush this weakling, then cast him at the feet of his love-lorn wife. There was a discreet knocking at the door, and Ramage’s face changed. Then all the embarrassments of the matter flashed in upon her. ‘Oh, peste.
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