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They came from every part, from the pit, the circle and the gallery, even from the stalls. Seeing the footman about to follow her in, Gerald clamped a hand onto his shoulder. Mac—the old gossip—knew about everything going on in that part of the world; and if Enschede was anything up to the picture the girl had drawn, McClintock would have heard of him, naturally. “In two days,” she reflected, “Mrs. ‘Do you swear it? There’s no knowing if one can believe you.
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