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“Cheveney!” she repeated. But these fears, like those he had recently experienced, speedily vanished, and he prepared to return to the roof, congratulating himself that owing to the opportune falling of the bricks, he had in all probability escaped serious injury. This "fatal retreat for the unfortunate brave" was marked by a low wooden railing, within which stood the triple tree. Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way. He whispered in her ear.
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