Then the inner door opened abruptly. His course, however, was no longer interrupted, and he crept on. And like that gospel it meant something, something different from its phrases, something elusive, and yet something that in spite of the superficial incoherence of its phrasing, was largely essentially true. The lips of the mask twisted upward into a smile. ‘Where did you get that, miss?’ ‘It is the sword of monsieur le major. "Put it under my pillow," he said.
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