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Just as Jack gained the entrance, he heard a man's footstep behind him, and aware that the slightest indiscretion would betray him, he halted, uncertain what to do. What matters it? My servant, he is wounded—and by a Frenchman, if you wish to make an arrest. His quiet, kindly smile implied his serene disbelief in any confessible thing. The touch of his lips neither thrilled nor alarmed her, because the eyes that looked into hers were clean.
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