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’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. The knight stood upon his defence; but he would unquestionably have been torn in pieces by the savage hounds, if a shower of oaths, seconded by a vigorous application of kicks and blows from their master, had not driven them growling off. Retribution has a queer way of acting sometimes. . She had to do her thinking at home—under inspection. Master, your humble servant. Her hair got loose, her hat came over one eye, and she had no arm free to replace it. “Act three.
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