" "Make good your assertions," cried Trenchard, furiously, "or——" "To the proof," interrupted the stranger, calmly. But if I were dying of thirst, in a desert, I would not accept a cup of water at her hands. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. To-morrow morning I shall have made up my mind what to do. He had been the one to dress her in the finest silks and brocades, and here she was, displayed for the world to see in 248 drugstore makeup and the uniform of an old schoolteacher.
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