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Thwart me, and I become your mortal enemy. ‘You have no need to be afraid of us. ” “Don’t tempt me,” she said, laughing, and drawing her opera-cloak together. “I wonder what he takes me for?” When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face. He would never be able to figure out that: all these miles from Cuba, and you could get a perfecto for thirteen cents. She heard their feet and muffled voices. They'll be back soon enough—or not at all.
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