" O'Higgins extracted a cigar from a pocket and inspected it. They then clambered over a hedge, and scaling another wall, got into the garden at the back of the house. She twisted to meet him and folded into his embrace. Wood having laid hold of the canvass-bag. At the door through which she had entered the room stood the so-called Monsieur Valade. Her teeth were chattering so hard that she had to clench them for fear of biting off her own tongue. A fresh cool breeze blew in their faces. If he ran less risk of being blown over, he stood a much greater chance of being washed off, or stifled.
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