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He went on with intense urgency. The aunt rushed over to her nephew, knelt and wrapped him in her arms. "From Lady Trafford's, where I took the box. “I think you are getting to understand me better. I felt as though I had bandaged eyes. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. "There is Dollis Hill," said the man, pointing to a well-wooded eminence about a mile distant, "and there," he added, indicating the roof of a house just visible above a grove of trees "is Mr.
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