"Thus," replied the prize-fighter. The lighting-up pierced the obscurity of the box, and Ramage stopped his urgent flow of words abruptly and sat back. She whispered, “Another car is coming,” as lights approached their car. The Old Mint III. "Hear the letter," said Ireton, breaking the seal. “I believe it is. I struck him across the face, twisted the steering wheel of the motor, sprang out myself, and left him for dead on the road with the motor on top of him. He struck out from the shoulder, and the man measured his length upon the pavement.
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