Wood, meantime, had not remained idle. Here we are absconding, pretending to be what we are not; shady, to say the least of it. She should be lifted out of her narrow little life, and it should be all owing to him. "What proof have you of the truth of this story?" inquired Trenchard. Why should she? she asked rebelliously. Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. "Remember the devil!" retorted Terence, who had recovered his natural audacity.
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