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To-night she had a curious feeling that she stood upon the threshold of some change. The Times slipped from his fingers. ‘And why not?’ ‘Because,’ Gerald said matter of factly, ‘convent-bred jeune demoiselles do not commonly know how to handle either pistols or daggers. “We won’t. She glanced towards her sister, and curiously enough found in her face some faint reflection of her own rather sombre mirth. "If I could work as fast as you, I might afford to be as idle. She drifted, via Theobald’s Road, obliquely toward the region about Titchfield Street. He took her fingers and lifted his eyes to hers. ‘Tell me, my boy.
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