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’ ‘His daughter, ma’am?’ Gerald asked. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. She saw a pole-chair; that would be this Mr. ‘Don’t even think of it,’ warned Gerald, in the voice generally reserved for his men.
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