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‘It weren’t my wish, miss, I can tell you that. “Ye Gods!” she said at last. His wife met him at the door, and into her hands he delivered his little charge. Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air.
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