"That man should have been an Italian bravo," murmured the knight, sinking into a chair: "he has neither fear nor compunction. ‘Or flew in by balloon, perhaps. “For Heaven’s sake, Dunster, don’t let her out of the carriage, or hansom, or whatever she came in. I keep on thinking of little details and aspects of your voice, your eyes, the way you walk, the way your hair goes back from the side of your forehead.
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