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He took her fingers and lifted his eyes to hers. Seems as she don’t trust soldiers easy. There came to O'Higgins the discouraging knowledge that upon the heels of a wonderful chase—blindman's buff in the dark—would come a stretch of dull inaction. 'Whoso giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord;' that's my comfort. After what seemed like an eternity he turned right onto a dirt road that ended unceremoniously at a copse of leafless trees. It was her figure, her style of dress, her manner of arranging the hair. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. That there gatekeeper would’ve called them out again.
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