Her knees shook, her breath came fast, she almost felt the lurid effect of those tiny patches of rouge upon her pallor-stricken cheeks. Knowledge was sacred in Athens, knowledge and his twin, Art. But he was at last persuaded that I mean you no harm, and that I might—just possibly, since I am both a gentleman and a major of militia—be able to be of more assistance to you than he himself. Yet either the rest or the wine seemed already to have done him good. On searching the coat, he found, amongst other matters, a mask, a key, and a pocket-book.
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