His room was last at the end of one winding corner. Our ideal had fallen. A young man turned to pay the cabman. "Who's there?—Pshaw! it's only the wind. ‘If you shoot me,’ Gerald said quickly, throwing out a hand, ‘I shan’t be able to rescue you. That's my maxim; and it's the maxim of every honest man. And then: “Of course! Always. ” “Very well,” the man answered.
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