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Or perhaps my father once. ’ ‘Do you indeed?’ rejoined the old lady, twinkling at him, and urging him towards the door. Her lips came together with an expression between contentment and the faintest shadow of a smile, her manner was one of quiet reserve, and behind this mask she was wildly discontented and eager for freedom and life. Then blackness. He was never known to err, and was as much dreaded as the jailfever in consequence.
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