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She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. “Her husband was a county councillor, and she has a niece who comes to see her in a carriage. The Magdalene XIV. Earles answered, glibly. . . The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. To go to Hoddy, to smother him with kisses and embraces in this hour of triumph! To save herself from committing the act—the thought of which was positive hypnotism—she began the native dance. We felt like thieves. . Swiftly she ran her hands over the carvings, trying to find the lever to the secret panel again. God, how old are they now? They must be teenagers.
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