" "We waste time with this fellow," interposed Sir Cecil, "and may lose the object of our quest, who, beyond doubt, has taken refuge in this building. “Are these ordinary sapphires?” she said. ” Pause. The conflict was of short duration; for Shotbolt was no match for his athletic antagonist. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. Her shoulders began to ache. " There was a momentary and terrible silence, broken only by a few feeble groans.
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