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” She glared at Sebastian over the drawing table where she was sketching in chalk, then over at the fifteen year old boy who was asleep in a disheveled pile of rushes in the corner. ” Hill looked up at him, an unkempt, rough-looking object, with broken collar, tumbled hair, and the blood slowly dripping from his face. “Why don’t you?” “Well, it might mean rather a row. The delay was only momentary. ” “I thought so,” Courtlaw said. His father and mother were a lawyer and a doctor, respectively.
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