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At the present moment she was living in a world of her own creation, a carnival of brave men and fair women, characters out of the tales she had so newly read for the first time. 5. It was possible that his first impressions had not been correct. I secured the dog after he had wounded me. Let us proceed with our tale. A sob was strangled in her throat. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. Were I not Jonathan Wild, I'd be Jack Sheppard. In the second, she was wretchedly poor, and assailed by temptations of which you can form no idea. "Yes, now," rejoined the infuriated dame; "perhaps, I may never have another opportunity. "I know you'll not deceive me. ‘Let us go elsewhere and discuss the matter.
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