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She threw her arms around Rollo's neck and laid her cheek upon the flea-bitten head. "A thousand pounds," he observed, gloomily, "is a heavy price to pay for doubtful secrecy, when certain silence might be so cheaply procured. “But what are you going to do?” asked Hetty. “I don’t know much about the technique of music,” he said at last, with his eyes upon her. His face was white. Ruth shivered; she was cold. Your glove will suffice. “I have the right of the man who loves you,” he declared.
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