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Mr. Wood's. It was a serene and charming evening, and twilight was gently stealing over the face of the country. Opening her large black eyes, she fixed them upon him for a moment with a mixture of terror and loathing, and then averted her gaze. Thames, you needn't tidy yourself, as you've hurt your arm. He tasted like cinders and ash, but not of smoke. But it is my fault.
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