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Using the shirt, she cleaned away the blood. Which are you—Valade or Charvill? Or, no, let me guess. I must go and dress at once. ‘You heard Gosse—I mean, the man you know as Valade?’ ‘Clear as day, miss,’ he uttered. E. I didn’t ought to have sent for him. ‘Pray you, mademoiselle, can you not—’ ‘No use trying to enlist Lucilla’s aid,’ snapped Roding. Here we are absconding, pretending to be what we are not; shady, to say the least of it.
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