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’ ‘Damnation!’ ‘What the devil ails you?’ demanded his friend, striding forward. The Night-Cellar. E. ” “Your priestess,” whispered Ann Veronica, softly. It is safe. ” She batted his arms and slapped him, angrily twisting from his grasp. ‘You were supposed to be nursing him,’ Martha grumbled, ‘and helping him convalesce. "What is it you want?" she asked, as she held out the coat.
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