97 “For what, kiddo?” Larry turned his head slightly to one side. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. No—you shall come with me to Waterloo. ‘Champion?’ ‘The lad you saw following her. She felt a semi-sharp object being gently impressed into her back. The Becks were the best foster family that she had ever had.
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