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“Forgive me,” he said. Grasping one of chairs about the little table, he drew it forward and sat astride it, in a fashion as insolent as it was unexpected. ” His face darkened. In the discussion there was the oddest mixture of things that were personal and petty with an idealist devotion that was fine beyond dispute. It was partly to pay a grudge he had against father. An enormous Hand that rose up swiftly, blotting out the sky. ’ Lucilla Froxfield laughed gaily.
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