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” It was her last evening in that wrappered life against which she had rebelled. "Stop a minute, my dear," cried Austin. “You certainly got him in the bag. In the hall below she could hear his firm voice giving quick commands to the servants. Wood's dwelling,—a plain, substantial, commodious farm-house. At the eastern gate of the churchyard stood the carriage with the steps lowered. That was the Frenchie, Valade, surely.
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