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Let’s go up to my room. She regarded the young man coldly. I tried to have it out with him, but he wouldn’t have it out. ‘As for your dagger—’ She held out her hand palm up, as if she expected him to give her the weapon. The Jacobite daws want a scarecrow. Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. “I don’t know,” said Ann Veronica; “I think I am.
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