They're only just gone, mercy on us! what a clatter," she added, as the knocking was repeated more violently than before. I'll tell you what. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. Wood could stand it no longer. ‘And why not?’ ‘Because,’ Gerald said matter of factly, ‘convent-bred jeune demoiselles do not commonly know how to handle either pistols or daggers. In one of the big gates was a little door, and she rapped at this.
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