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E. “That thing’s going on,” she told herself. Both advanced towards it, when, by the light of the lantern, Wood beheld, in the countenance of the stranger, the well-remembered and stern features of Rowland. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips.
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