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He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. How to hold her, how to keep her at his side; this was the problem with which he struggled. She was glad when he went on: “I want to be your city of refuge from every sort of bother. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion.
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