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The Furnace of Gold by Philip Verrill Mighels
page 98 of 379 (25%)

"Of a sort--a rough sort, perhaps, but genuine--a kindness to me--and
Elsa," she answered, flushing rosily. "He saved me from----" she
looked at the convict garb upon him, "--from a disagreeable experience,
I'm sure, and secured me the very best accommodations in the town."

They had almost come to her lodgings. Bostwick halted in the road, his
gun-metal jaw protruding formidably.

"You haven't already begun to admire this ruffian--glorify this
outlaw?" he growled, "--after what he did to me?"

"Don't stop to discuss it here," she answered, beholding Mrs. Dick at
the front of the house. "I haven't had time to do anything. You must
manage to change your clothes."

"I'll have my reckoning with your friend," he assured her angrily.
"Have you engaged a suite for me?"

They had come to the door of the house. Beth beheld the look of
amazement, suspicion, and repugnance on the face of Mrs. Dick, and her
face burned red once more.

"Oh, Mrs. Dick," she said, "this is Mr. Bostwick, of whom I spoke." She
had told of Bostwick's capture by the convicts. "Do you think you
could find him a room?"

"A room? I want a suite--two rooms at least," said Bostwick
aggressively. "Is this a first-class place?"

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