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Updated: May 13, 2025
'And now what about Winifred Hurtle? asked Fisker. 'What makes you ask? She's in London. 'Oh yes, I know she's in London, and Hurdle's at Frisco, swearing that he'll come after her. He would, only he hasn't got the dollars. 'He's not dead then? muttered Paul. 'Dead! no, nor likely to die. She'll have a bad time of it with him yet. 'But she divorced him.
The town constable, vastly excited, came up the street, accompanied by two or three stern-visaged citizens. "Well, by thunder!" growled the officer, wiping his forehead. "Somebody's been making a wholesale job of it. Dick Hurdle's 'Jackie' and Bert Little's 'Prince' are dead as doornails. That makes three. Now, who the hell, "
It was wonderful how a man who talked so little as father could have had so many thoughts in his mind. But then they all are boxed up together in every man's heart. At a time like this they come racing and tumbling out like a flock of sheep out of a yard when the hurdle's down. What a dashed queer thing human nature is when you come to think of it.
She did not doubt that she could cause the shipwreck were she so minded. She could certainly have her revenge after that fashion. But it was a woman's fashion, and, as such, did not recommend itself to Mrs Hurdle's feelings. A pistol or a horsewhip, a violent seizing by the neck, with sharp taunts and bitter-ringing words, would have made the fitting revenge.
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