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Chapter XXIX MONTAGUE HILL PLAYS THE GAME The man opened his eyes and looked curiously about him. Daughters were not like sons. Wearied at length with thinking on the past, and terrified by the prospect of the future, he threw himself on the straw with which the cage was littered, and endeavoured to compose himself to slumber. I have said that I am but a nun now. Now we meet again, and you will scarcely look at me. Cautiously stepping outside, he looked up towards the terrace.
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