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And then scratched it out and wrote instead, “Gérard”. "Is it poison?" she asked. Humph. “Loneliness,” she said, “is a luxury which I never permit myself. I AM an abandoned female. "Vill this do?" demanded the constable, taking the candle from the lantern, the better to display the narrow limits of the hole. She was sorry to find Ramage a little disposed to be melancholy. So get up, and let's be off. But the wench who tricked me shall bitterly repent it. The knife is at my breast. ’ ‘Ah, no?’ She saw his guard relax and lunged again.
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