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A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. "You thank Heaven for the escape of the man who did his best to get your child's neck twisted. You fooled me this morning; but I overheard two old maids talking about you and the young man. “I suppose, Mr.

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