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Stonily he had disengaged himself. Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. I ought never to have thought of it. ‘What?’ ‘Nothing,’ snapped Roding, with an odd look at his bride to be that Gerald could not interpret. Such an obvious ruse, but the boys and girls would defend their pride to the bitter end, the facade of study groups during rutting season. “Oh my God, what if she’s dead?” More giggling.
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