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He tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground. No wonder that Trenchard, as he gazed at this fearful being, should have some misgivings cross him. ’ It’s a duplicate of the French one. She climbed slowly towards it, keeping close to the hedge side, fragrant with wild roses, and holding her skirts high above the dew-laden grass.
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