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He fancied that the turnkeys had discovered his flight and were in pursuit of him,—that they had climbed up the chimney,—entered the Red Room,— tracked him from door to door, and were now only detained by the gate which he had left unbroken in the chapel. Several people in the crowd seemed to be fighting. “Those were good. Go back at once, please. The primitive superstition of his Puritan forbears was his; and before this the buckler of his education disintegrated. You understand. It probably had its own repulsive oubliette in the bottom, where tiny princesses could fall and break their necks. He began a jerky, broken conversation that lasted until they reached the station, and left her puzzled at its drift and meaning.
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