‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid. Put out your hand and bid me God-speed. I have calculated my chances, you perceive. Softly she rose to her feet. “If I am,” he answered, reddening, “you can scarcely assert that it is without a cause. Besides, you cannot visit people armed with a pistol in London, you know. “Please stop fighting me.
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