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"Are you not a New Orleans boy?" she asked as I lifted my képi and drew rein.

Lit with foolish hope to hear thy fondling sighs, Like yon twilight dove's, breathe, Return, return!

"Oh, you haven't tempted me," she replied, with kind amusement. "You couldn't if you should try. You're a true soldier, with a true soldier's ideals; and I'm pledged to help you keep them."

I stepped back, heaving. "Who and what are you? Who and what are you?"

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