"Why, how the devil did you happen to guess that?" cried the janizary. He rather liked the "sir"; it signified both gratefulness and the chastened spirit. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you appear to be a fellow countrywoman of mine, and in some distress. It was a face that matched her body, so pure and beautiful that any man would have killed for her.
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