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And yet to Spurlock it was only the title of a story he would some day write. One day she desisted from her search and went unexpectedly to the Tredgold College. "You'd better surrender quietly, Jack," he cried; "you've no chance. But here I am to draw upon. Perceiving he was about to take leave, Kneebone ventured to ask whom he had had the honour of addressing. “I will come—with pleasure,” she said, “if you will promise to treat me as a new acquaintance—not to refer to—Paris—at all. ” He asked questions and listened to her views for a time. She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. How the deuce, though, am I going to account for her? People will be asking questions when they see her; and if I tell the truth, they'll start to snubbing her. To-night we leave for Marseilles.
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