Next moment, she had shut the bookshelf panel upon him. It was as if he could smell it on her. Drummond nodded. James Figg was the most perfect master of self-defence of his day. She felt the need to get dressed, sensing that his parents would be home soon. There were seven tales in all—short stories—a method of expression quite strange to her, after the immense canvases of Dickens and Hugo.
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