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’ The fury welled. He was not Meysey Hill, but an Englishman of business, and he had only a small income. He had been very easy or she had been very lucky. The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword. ‘You do not like it?’ ‘That is hardly the point. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage. What was the matter with the dress? She could not see.
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