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. “How odd that I should almost spring into your arms just on my doorstep!” she remarked gaily. They sat face to face beneath an experienced-looking rucksack and a brand new portmanteau and a leather handbag, in the afternoon-boat train that goes from Charing Cross to Folkestone for Boulogne. Martha had not been pleased to find her spare one borrowed for that expedition when the major had found her outside the ballroom. It was a duel, you understand, and that is not permitted.
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