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His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ann Veronica, by H. ‘Stay, Saling!’ The butler halted, looking round enquiringly. The Bed Room 400 XIX. “Many nights I have thought of you, Anna.
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