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F. But, by Jove! you are fierce! You are like those Roman women who carry stilettos in their hair. It had ceased now, but as he closed in on the area, a faint muttering came to his ears. It wouldn’t be you. ‘But Gérard—if you mean the fellow Alderley who was making eyes at Yolande—is not here. "What does he say?" roared the long drover. And it’s no use thinking he’d stop her. Kneebone's 346 XIV. ‘Point it at me.
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