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Ruth hugged the envelope and McClintock, with the end of a burnt match, drew a cabalistic sign. “Really, Sir John,” she said, “I don’t know how to thank you. "The shoulder-clappers!" added a lady, who, in her anxiety to join the party, had unintentionally substituted her husband's nether habiliments for her own petticoats. ‘You can if you like. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him.
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