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‘They’ve gone, miss,’ came the answer, muffled through the panel door. "You are, Sir," thundered Jonathan; "and, unless you find him, you shan't hold your place a week. Her head dangled unnaturally for an instant, unleashed from its moorings, then sank to join her husband’s on the floor. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. "You must take it to Sir Rowland Trenchard's in Southampton Fields. " "Her ladyship will pass through it?" "Of course; there's no other way. ” “That’s rather the theory now,” said Ann Veronica. " "Wood's daughter, I suppose?" observed the other.


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