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Part 7 That was two days before Christmas Eve. ‘Lord, no! I’ve a better regard for my skin, I thank you. He will have it that I’ve taken leave of my senses. " "And what course do you propose to pursue in reference to him?" asked Sir Rowland. Oh, and only look at those stains,’ cried Miss Froxfield, gesturing at the blood on the ruffles to the sleeves of Melusine’s riding-habit, and on the chemise she wore under it. “Of course you don’t. " "Make good your assertions," cried Trenchard, furiously, "or——" "To the proof," interrupted the stranger, calmly. There was a sharp knocking at the outside door.
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