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Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees. ‘You the fellow Gerald spoke to?’ Kimble flushed beetroot, and Melusine had a flash of insight. She came in while he was still in the throes, conviction battling with commonsense, his own apprehension. By the by, my dear, I forgot to ask your name—perhaps you'll oblige me with it now? Hell and the devil!—gone!" He looked around in vain.
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