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“Don’t you understand? It is I whom you cared for in Paris, not Anna. Had Gosse taken it as he escaped? What could she do? Gosse now knew that she was the daughter of Mary Remenham. ” He grabbed a sword from the wall of arms. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently.
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