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"Halloa, widow!" shouted a rough voice from below, "where the devil are you?" Mrs. Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. “It was,” she admitted. . It struck the major that she was very young. Gave me a purse, and told me to take both of ’em up to Harwich and put them on a packet for Holland. ‘And it is not only a question of her identity, but a matter of her life as well. ’ ‘Oh, have you?’ grunted Gerald, surprising in himself a surge of some odd emotion at these words. " "Aw light!" The two old friends held each other off at arms' length for inspection; this proving satisfactory, they began to prod and pummel one another affectionately. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. It is so ridiculous. But—It’s just this: who was to be hurt?” “I wish no one had to be hurt,” said Ann Veronica. Sydney Courtlaw—Mr.
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