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Whence she came,—who she was,—and what she wanted,—were questions which naturally suggested themselves to Blueskin, and he was about to seek for some explanation, when his curiosity was checked by a gesture of silence from the lady. They put her down, and she leaped at them; she smote a helmet to the ground. I daresay that is one of the names of the nuns in your convent.
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