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Wood, who was standing at the edge of a raised platform, anxiously waving his hand to him. “Look here, father,” she said, with a change in her voice, “suppose I won’t stand it?” He regarded her as though this was a new idea. ‘Dead then, is he?’ ‘If I could say that he is dead, it would give me very much satisfaction. “Too late, my dear girl,” she exclaimed. "My portrait!" echoed Jack. Now, however, as Gerald watched them, their heads were together and they were murmuring in French. This door, which was open, Jonathan locked and took out the key.
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