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"Not before it's needed," returned Jack, aloud; adding in a whisper, "get upon my shoulders, Thames. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. It ought not to be much. For a moment none of them stirred; then slowly Enschede turned away. "He's a base, deceitful, tyrannical, hoary-headed libertine—that's what he is.
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