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A piece of old blanket was fastened across her shoulders, and she had no other clothing except a petticoat. ‘What is the matter?’ ‘Is there nothing you do not know?’ she asked faintly. “How old are you?” “Sixteen. The next minute, I contrived, without either of 'em perceiving me, to convey it into my own pocket. She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat.
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