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"Patience Kite has lured him to Enfield on a false scent after Blueskin. “I meant it. James Figg was the most perfect master of self-defence of his day. “What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. She fought him with tooth and nail. A little Madeira seemed to recover her enough to resume the discussion. ” “I don’t know.
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