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’ ‘Dieu du ciel,’ came from the lady in a furious tone, before the astonished Roding could respond. "Remember the devil!" retorted Terence, who had recovered his natural audacity. Eyebrows knitting, she looked towards the ground a few feet away from him, guiltily. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. Voices floated down, but there was no sound of pursuit. “Yes, I see that. “And now let us leave the men alone and talk about ourselves.
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