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While he thus vented his rage, the door again opened, and Quilt Arnold rushed into the room, bleeding, and half-dressed. It was grated and crested with spikes, like that he had just burst open, and thinking it a needless waste of time to force it, he broke off one of the spikes, which he carried with him for further purposes, and then climbed over it. And don’t talk until we’re well out of earshot. He was by no means certain that she would not in fact attempt to blow off his head as she had threatened.
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