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Observe it—a blue-serge coat. “Good-bye, John,” she said simply. There was something in Jonathan's manner, as he issued this command, that struck the man as singular, and he afterwards recalled it. Then he turned round and gazed thoughtfully at the particular spot in the fog where Courtlaw had disappeared. A town called Foster. Mary Remenham had passed on her every feature to the daughter whose advent had taken her from this world.
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