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‘Then it is that you will have pity? Here we have come, we poor, for aid. Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils. Miss Stanley threw aside a black cloak to reveal a discreet and dignified arrangement of brown silk, and then embraced Ann Veronica with warmth. The Frenchman had moved back into Piccadilly from Down Street, at which the lad following him had immediately sauntered away a yard or two. We are alone and we can say and do what we please.
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