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She dropped beside the chair, sat cross-legged, and laughed at the futile jade-coloured wall. ‘And since the entire company and Pottiswick himself were unable to find hide nor hair of the infernal French female—’ ‘English, Hilary,’ Gerald reminded him. I want to get away—to go to London. The more haste, the worse speed—better the feet slip than the tongue. “Good evening, Dorling,” he said.
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