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Holcroft, we may have been mistaken. It had been his fevered imagination that had endued the garment with some extraordinary value. ‘And nor do I. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. So was I, in fact. Every one else does. ” Annabel leaned back in her chair and laughed till the tears stood in her eyes. " "There was a yacht in the river?" "I have nothing to say. " "It is life. He caught the smirk. Who were you looking for tonight? One of the émigrés? There were several in there.
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