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I can wield a quarterstaff as well as a prize-fighter, and have beaten Figg himself at the broadsword. “But it still misses the nucleolus. “You are too good for me,” she said in a low voice. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. Directly in range stood the strange young man, although he was at the far side of the loft. ‘I know that, miss.
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