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’ Gerald was staring at her, an arrested expression on his face. Come, mon ami, come!’ Ever faithful, Kimble dragged himself into a sitting position, gasping at the pain this caused him. "Bolt the wicket!" shouted Ireton, who, with the others, had been not a little entertained by the gallant turnkey's discomfiture. “You see,” he said, “from my point of view you’re grown up— you’re as old as all the goddesses and the contemporary of any man alive. Until that was done a certain experience of life assured him that a girl is a locked coldness against a man’s approach.
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