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"Nor any one else, I suspect," answered Ireton, winking significantly. On the morrow Spurlock (who was unaware that he had offered a prayer) let down the bars to his reserve. She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. Sebastian administered bitter tonics to her, fluids she could not taste with her swollen tongue. ’ He clenched his fists and grew red in the face.
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