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’ A twinkle crept into Mrs Sindlesham’s eye. "I will swear it upon the cross!" "His name, then?" demanded the knight. "Remember!" cried Quilt, as he forced the captive along. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. You are not a tourist seeking adventure. And afterwards! Sir John drew his cigar from his lips, and looked upwards where the white-lights flashed strangely amongst the deep cool green of the lime-trees. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. You seem to want this chap out of Canton.
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