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Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for. Or did he? Perhaps he had found another. It was just upon the stroke of nine as he entered the Lodge, and Mr. A hazy face appeared through the fog of sleep, pale and thin and looming. “May you have as much good fortune as you deserve, but not enough to make you forget us.
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