Sydney was watching her eagerly. She received into her slack grasp the pistol and dagger, only half aware of taking them. Her elbows were ready. The second look told me I was wrong. But there's a person in the hall—a very odd sort of man—waiting to see him, who won't be sent away. ” She put her wrists upon his shoulders, feeling him surge with the pride of his own masculinity as she touched him. She dropped on her knees by his side, and gently unbuttoned his waistcoat. “What did it matter?” she cried. I—well, I lost my temper.
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