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Perhaps an hour passed before she laid aside the book. " "Stand off, Poll," rejoined the woollen-draper; "I don't want to hurt you. ’ ‘What son?’ asked Roding. She wished she had not stood up. "Whatever you like, Hoddy," she agreed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “I’m rather a persistent person. " "You are right, Sir," said the worthy carpenter, rising. He returned to attend the funeral. He had already spoken his mind on the folly of allowing a clearly dangerous female to escape a second time.
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