Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time. As he returned to the table, he put his finger to his nose; and, though he said nothing, he thought he had a much better chance of winning his wager. "Aren't you afraid?" "Of what?"—serenely. "Upon him!" "Yield, villain, or die!" shouted Thames, drawing his sword and springing towards him.
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