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“My sister,” she murmured, “is so independent. ‘A word, if you please, my friend. Why not? Quite willing. His sword-arm fell useless at his side and she knew herself safe. He stopped on the curb-stone, not facing her but as if he was on his way to cross the road, and spoke to her suddenly over his shoulder. The man was thick set, with a bright roving eye. ‘And that object confirms me in the belief that it is not I who will shortly meet my maker.
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