She was not very clear about the position and duties of a chorus-girl, but it certainly had the air of being a last desperate resort. A young man was playing the banjo. In you—if you can love me—there is salvation. She prevaricated. “You’re mad, Sebastianus. And shall their wretched offspring live to blight my hopes, and blast my fame? Never!" And, with these words, he grasped Wood by the throat, and, despite his resistance, dragged him to the very verge of the platform.
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