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. A disagreeable young man, with red hair and a loose mouth, seated at the reporter’s table, was only too manifestly sketching her. Wood fancied he recognised. He would have to probe further. “And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing. We shall have a reg'lar squall afore we gets across. But I’m thinking as how I’d best report to the major over this here shooting. "I haven't offended you?"—not contritely but curiously.
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