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While he was straining every sinew, his foot slipped, and he fell, head foremost, into a deep trench, which he had not observed in the dark. It’s like this: You want freedom. 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 firmly believe that she is as straight as a die. She could hardly remember his face except for his brown hair, thick lips, and narrow dark eyes. “It’s—private.
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