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. ” “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” He accused. “Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse. A woman’s shoe lay on the threadbare carpeting. Her body was perpetually tanned, despite the approach of winter. "Ah!" he exclaimed, as the painting was turned towards him. "And the Marchioness is your daughter," added Thames.
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