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She felt herself falling, her bile rising in her 61 throat, the cold wind spinning around her like vertigo. ’ ‘Where are we going?’ ‘Back to Blaye, my girl. The windows of these rooms were obscured with draperies, their floors a carpet patchwork; the china ornaments on their mantels were of a class apart. . “It is very good of you to come and see me, my dear sister,” Annabel remarked, throwing herself into a low chair, and clasping her hands over her head. Gerald would certainly have demanded back his sword.
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