‘That,’ he said stonily, ‘is yet another point over which we fell out. It was an oldfashioned peasant blouse, white, square necked, and trimmed with lace. And they admired Kent sedulously from the windows. It seems to me just talk; it seems to me like the fancy of a dream. I rather want them. But, this sad affair disposed of, I will not rest till I have avenged my murdered parents.
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