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. Perhaps an hour later he would begin again. S. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. It was a dead calm. ’ She bit her lip and thought deeply. Still—” Then, with incredible and obviously deliberate stupidity, and a voice as flat as her own, he asked, “Who is the man?” Her spirit raged within her at the dumbness, the paralysis that had fallen upon her. There would be no mercy in this man.
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