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’ ‘Me, miss?’ uttered Mrs Ibstock doubtfully. There was a round table covered, not with the usual “tapestry” cover, but with a plain green cloth that went passably with the wall-paper. Wait!" He released himself from his aunt's embrace, ran to the trunk and fetched the old coat. One of his chair coolies had witnessed the transportation of Spurlock by stretcher to the sampan in the canal. I’m ashamed to confess it, but I didn’t want the charge of you—a too close reminder of my own lost babe. "What has put it into your head that your son yet lives?" he asked.
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