" "My father was of the blood-royal of France," exclaimed Thames. "Come—the kiss!" cried Austin, endeavouring to pass his arm familiarly round the Amazon's waist. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. A militiaman came belting down the stairs, another leapt from outside the front door, and a third, stalwart and stolid, came in through the door that led to the rooms to the front of the house.
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