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His bravado waxed and he asked her to what would be her first date in nearly twenty years. His hair had begun to gray, his belly had just begun to round. Having no means of defence, Sir Rowland cleared the blood from his vision; and, turning to see whether there was any means of escape, he descried the open door behind him leading to the Well Hole, and instantly darted through it. The same teardrop bust, the same long waist, the same thick legs. “Tell him to drive—anywhere,” she exclaimed.
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