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"Leave me to my fate," rejoined Jack. “Don’t!” cried Ann Veronica, struggling faintly, and he released her. There could not, he decided, possibly be two girls so much alike. "Beat down their blades," cried the Master; "no bloodshed. My nerves are shaken. Ruth was inflammable; she would always be flaring up swiftly, in pity, in tenderness, in anger; she would always be answering impulses, without seeking to weigh or to analyse them.
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