They are things faint and slight in themselves, as physical facts, but they are like the detonator of a bomb: they let loose the explosive. ’ He scratched his chin as if he thought about it, but covertly kept a careful study of what he could see of her face. " "'Ouns!" ejaculated Terence, in alarm, "would you turn snitch on your old pal, Quilt?" "Ay, if he plays a-cross," returned Quilt.
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