“My word holds,” she said. Brendon dismissed the subject with a wave of the hand. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. “I had a dream in the night,” she said. I am not French in the least. Aware of Quilt Arnold's mode of proceeding, Jack instantly dismounted, and, instead of knocking, opened the door with the pass-key.
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