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"It is not too late to repair the wrong I have done my nephew," cried Trenchard. He had little money about him, and unless friends come to his aid he must be treated as a pauper. Her eyes were lit with smouldering passion. "Dead!" echoed the boy. Dim possibilities that she would not seem to look at even to herself gesticulated in the twilight background of her mind. They telephoned that you had absconded with ten thousand, and that if I would make good the loss within twenty-four hours, they would not prosecute.
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