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" "Ja—ja," returned the Hollander. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. But, uttering a loud cry, he was swept away by the headlong torrent. “Your father is dead too, I believe,” he continued, “and your mother. I am—’ ‘Like me, entirely English. 277 “I was beginning to think that I would never see you again, Lucy.
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