“Hi John. Kneebone," she added, drawing up her magnificent figure to its full height, and making the heavy cudgel whistle through the air, "look to yourself. The true creative mind is always returning to battle; defeats are only temporary setbacks. “No, I’m fine. I am sorry, but you have spoilt me. Don't feel fussed upon my account. Everything seemed designed to unhinge the mind and make the cat wretched. The light touch of Ah Cum's hand upon her arm broke the thread of retrospective thought; and her gray eyes began to register again the things she saw. In a moment or two, Madame Valade recovered her sangfroid.
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