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Chapter Two ‘Our French friends are beginning to form quite a little coterie,’ remarked Gerald, covertly studying the group gathered in an alcove at the other side of Lady Bicknacre’s ballroom. There was only one small grated window in this hold, which admitted but little light. She was silent, the ghost of a fading smile passed from her lips. He was caked with dried muck. He said the place had gone to wrack.
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