Dunster shall fetch you a cab. She lay and nibbled at a sprig of dwarf rhododendron. “She was the High Priestess who turned me in Greece, before Rome. Poor soul! she nearly died when she heard he had robbed his master; and it might have been well if she had done so, for she never afterwards recovered her reason. Was the girl seriously expecting him to pull the trigger? Lord, but she had courage! ‘Shoot, then,’ urged the lady. Her head snapped back as he grabbed her by the hair.
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