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One Friday afternoon, in this pleasant month, it chanced that Mr. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. Then for the first time she was conscious of an unaccountable and terrifying sensation. Was there ever such madness?” “I am afraid that I don’t understand,” Ennison answered. You’re dealing with me now, not Gerald. You need fear no interruption from him, or any of his myrmidons. ” “There’s quite enough still,” said Ann Veronica, smiling, “that one doesn’t understand.
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