Let me only wear your livery. ‘Never trust a gun in female hands,’ grumbled Hilary, dropping the nun’s habit and backing to join his friend. She had just passed into a little antechamber beyond when she suddenly heard a faint knocking. He rolled on top of her, pinning her with his arms and forming a tented cage. The shape of the head, the height and breadth of the brow, the angle of the nose, the cut of the chin and jaws, all were fine, of a type she had never before looked upon closely.
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