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All sorts of battered tramps, junks and riff-raff of the seas trailed in and out. “I cannot thank you, Sir John,” she said. Fortescue rambled round the garden with soft, propitiatory steps, the Corinthian nose upraised and his hands behind his back, pausing to look long and hard at the fruit-trees against the wall. ’ ‘But, sister, I—’ ‘Get along!’ Melusine gave Jack a smile as he cast a worried look at her, and nodded dismissal.
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