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“Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. ‘Oh, peste,’ she cried out in distressed tones. His hair was thick and brown and his skin was fair. Never again to be alone! To fit herself into this man's life as a hand into a glove; to use all her skill to force him into the position of depending upon her utterly; to be the spark to the divine fire! He should have his book, even if it had to be written with her heart's blood. ‘By traitors I am surrounded!’ ‘Stop talking utter twaddle,’ ordered Roding, marching up to the desk.
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