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And I have no more the pistol. The dress was her mother's, and she was wearing it to save a little extra money. She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. ‘I find this was excessively clever of Gérard. "I should think so," responded the lethargic turnkey, with a yawn. In the subdued light she could not tell whether he was asleep or awake. His tone was rough, almost threatening. "Shpeak up, vill you?" cried Abraham, rapping his knuckles against the hatch.
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