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The thought of you, wandering from pillar to post, believing yourself hunted—it tore my old heart to pieces! For I knew you. I should have gone mad without it. Put out your hand and bid me God-speed. He could not make good his hold. 1. ‘Who’d believe me? And I’d have to tell my part in it all, too. But I will not believe you. ” “I couldn’t do that,” said Ann Veronica, sharply.
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