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It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. ‘Oh, my God, she’s gone!’ Wrenching his hand from his friend’s slackened grasp, he darted for the door, Roding behind him. And then, there would be the question of money. ‘You must think me a fool, mademoiselle. He reached for her and she stroked his head soothingly as his mother had done a few times when he had suffered bad fevers.
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