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’ He held his hands out of the way, surrendering his chest for her assault. His hand went to his pocket and extracted a neat silver-mounted pistol. "Yes, yes," replied Edgeworth Bess. “You love some one else?” he repeated. It reminded her of one of the old tales her mother Marina had told her about a sculptor named Farhat. The two hostlers, however, kept close at his heels; and Jack, whose strength began to flag, feared he could not hold much longer. "And now, mark me.
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