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47, straightening her hat and waiting for her luggage to appear. The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword. One who steals. Grace, confidence, the power of movement even, seemed gone from her. He was manifestly exerting his mind for her, and she found herself fully disposed to justify his interest. The girl’s gaze met his in interested inquiry. G. It cost her seventy-seven dollars.

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