Instinctively she had fallen into the posture of the poster, her hands behind her, her head bent slightly forward, her chin uplifted, her eyes bright with the drollery of the song. ‘Never trust a gun in female hands,’ grumbled Hilary, dropping the nun’s habit and backing to join his friend. Anna stared back at every one with undaunted composure. " He stared at the agitated curtain; and slowly his chin sank until it touched his chest.
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