" "I hope such a thing never will happen again, my dear," observed Wood, mildly, "but, when it does, it will be time to consider what course we ought to pursue. She was an Egyptian, from the magical times. My will is executed, and placed in safe custody. If we were to wait till a prig was rightfully nabbed, we might tarry till doomsday. " CHAPTER XVIII. I'll bet you haven't given her a bucket of paint in three years. How old are you?” She asked.
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