"Has he escaped?" asked the thief-taker, faintly. ‘Nothing would do for her but to come here,’ grumbled Hilary, wiping his heated brow with a pocket handkerchief dragged from his immaculate white uniform breeches. She felt a little ashamed of herself, a bit of a hypocrite. There were seven tales in all—short stories—a method of expression quite strange to her, after the immense canvases of Dickens and Hugo. In another instant, the collision took place.
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