In the heart of the jungle the dog had his private muck baths. Her motherly features creased into anxious wrinkles. It is we who have become the parasites and toys. She rose, paid her bill, and turned westwards. ‘Of course I see that,’ she said impatiently. Taking a firm grasp of his pistol, Gerald eased back, let go the handle of the door, and at the same instant, swung his booted foot. What was yet more worthy of note was, that the widow's countenance had an air of refinement about it, of which it was utterly destitute before, and which seemed to intimate that her true position in society was far above that wherein accident had placed her.
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