‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. She galloped up the small stairs, hearing that Shari had finally risen. There was a tearing sound as the canvas gave way, and the precious portrait ripped apart as the top of the Frenchman’s head came through it. "Can you pull him through?" was the anxious question. The girl was pretty, and apparently a lady. O'Higgins, the American detective, and were waiting against the hour when they could assist the young man in a sudden dash for liberty. It's my way when I'm ruffled. The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid. Come home alone. Her companion was a person of no inferior condition.
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