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‘At me,’ she uttered, holding her own pistol high and aiming it steadily. ‘Though we might have done, if a certain addlepated clothhead hadn’t let her get away. She would write to Gerald. ” “Well, perhaps it is a bit depressing. His hand fell lightly to her chest where her heart was 211 beating, almost tenderly. I wrenched this off, and in an envelope addressed to me in faded ink, I found the locket and the pearls.
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