‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. Such ambitions as he had were stereotyped and material. You’re not to go. She was silent, the ghost of a fading smile passed from her lips. The idea that he held in his arms the girl whom he had once so passionately loved, and for whom he still retained an ardent but hopeless attachment, almost overcame him. If I’d meant it, my girl, you’d be dead meat. There were shadows under his eyes.
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