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Stanley, and went into his study. Her knees almost sank beneath her as she raised the latch of the front door and looked out. He had a quick, shrewd, merry eye, and a look in which duplicity was agreeably veiled by good humour. She had never imagined life was half so sinister as it looked to her in the beginning of these investigations. She went to her own table and sat down. Her long incarceration at the convent in Blaye had taught her to be dismissive of her own appearance.
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