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"We'll see that," replied Jonathan. The air might be cool, but half an hour without head-gear was an invitation to sunstroke. They turned off at Glen Grove, a sleepy town of less than two hundred. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. ’ ‘Aye, but she don’t reckon to militiamen. ” She roused herself from some dream at the word.
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