So often as she had herself manipulated a dagger, she could not mistake the shape that pressured across her chest, or the sharp point that dug below her bosom. She tiptoed into the entryway where some decorator had placed a live orchid upon a glassy ebony table. He was tall, slender, and suave. The major’s hand stilled. She had neither the semi-boisterousness of the average American girl nor the chilling insolence of the English. I’ll have to make a visit out of town. During this dreadful pause the wretched man felt for his sword.
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