‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid. Before he could draw in the rein, his steed—startled apparently by some object undistinguishable by the rider,—swerved with such suddenness as to unseat him, and precipitate him on the ground. I am having them to my own soirée on Monday. She pointed suddenly at the portrait. He blushed, too, spiritually, as it were. . He's got the gift of the gab. I spoke a thought aloud.
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