“Who took care of you after she died?” “My father. Pile it on! But if you can hear the voice of the mote, the speck, don't let her suffer for anything I've done. The girl was flushed with excitement, bright-eyed, and braced for a struggle; her aunt had never seen her looking so fine or so pretty. ’ ‘Sir!’ called Trodger, as the captain began to lead the young lady off. Like most officers, he’d had it especially made, for a man who loved danger had need of a precision instrument of defence.
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