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‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. To-night she could have hugged both the old maids. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury. Certainly as soon as I have found my right place at Remenham House, I must find out everything. Lassitude?” “I suppose so. CHAPTER XXI. He returned her to her door at a decent hour, well before 10:00.
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