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There's the paragraph. But come in, dear. Jonathan mixed with the group, and, sure of his prey, abided his time. Her wings were oddly weak, but for all that she could fly. It was cramped even at the end of the passage. “My dear Miss Stanley, when I talked to you the other afternoon of work and politics and such-like things, my mind was all the time resenting it beyond measure. Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you—an object of hatred. " "Never," replied Winifred. . " "Could I credit your wild story, I might do so," returned Thames, with a look of perplexity.
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