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CHAPTER XXIX. ” Drummond shook his head in melancholy fashion. He stepped in with a heavy foreboding of calamity. ’ ‘Good. Satisfied with his scrutiny, he produced a pocket-flask, and taking off the silver cup with which it was mounted, filled it with the contents of the flask, and then seizing the thin arm of the sleeper, rudely shook it. ” He sighed. A simple wooden monument was placed over the grave, but without any name or date. " "Glad to see you once more in the Mint, Mrs. Ain't you, Jacky darling?" "Not quite, Poll," returned Mr. ” She could practically hear the self-deprecating thoughts racing across his mind, the failed hours of rehearsed lines. She became more assertive, more defiant. But Darrell averted his head.
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