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A species of vertigo seized him. ’ ‘Why did you not claim it yourself?’ asked Gerald. ‘And me?’ ‘Oh, you’re mad because you wish to blow off my head. For the first time that day, she was finally able to look into his face. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. "The Chevalier shall hear of this," whispered the woollen-draper. ” Annabel shrugged her shoulders.
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