” “Right,” he answered. This salute of his—actually the first she could remember—while it did not disturb her, began to lead her thoughts into new channels of speculation. There were seven tales in all—short stories—a method of expression quite strange to her, after the immense canvases of Dickens and Hugo. It's precisely the same thing to me to bid my janizaries cut Thames Darrell's throat, as to order Jack Sheppard's execution. You're alone, too, child.
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