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‘Oh, peste, you make me late!’ She glared up at Roding. She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat. ’ With an air of real interest, he asked, ‘I suppose you did not dig a tunnel or fly in by balloon?’ The lady gazed at him blankly. Her features were still slightly marked by the disorder alluded to in the description of her as a child,—but that was the only drawback to her beauty.
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