Then she sat down—uninvited— and looked from one to the other curiously. They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. "Well, well, we'll say no more about it," replied Wood; "and, by way of changing the subject, let me advise you on no account to fly to strong waters for consolation, Joan. "Heed her not.
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