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Shotbolt nodded in token of acquiescence, and emitted an odd guttural sound. O'Higgins mounted the stairs, his step extraordinarily light for one so heavy. ‘But for how long?’ Lady Bicknacre asked apprehensively. I chose you for your strength, your cunning, your intelligence, your great beauty. He was therefore obliged to use the iron bar, which he did with as much caution as circumstances would permit. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. Roused by Ben's warning, the carpenter looked up and could just perceive the dusky outline of the bridge looming through the darkness, and rendered indistinctly visible by the many lights that twinkled from the windows of the lofty houses.
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