The blast once more swept over the agitated river: whirled off the sheets of foam, scattered them far and wide in rain-drops, and left the raging torrent blacker than before. “He is not—I don’t like him. He nodded. You might trust me with the Chevalier himself,—I'd never betray him. It’s too valiant, Miss Stanley, too valiant altogether!” Ann Veronica meditated.
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