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"He is," returned Quilt, significantly. The thought had not even occurred to him. She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. "I thought I heard a scream. He had a narrow escape, however; for, passing within an inch of him, the bullet burried itself deeply in the wall. The world isn’t ready for girls to start out on their own yet; that’s the plain fact of the case. He was as hard as a rock.
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