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"Hist!" cried Rowland, arresting his comrade. Like a thorough-bred racer, he would sustain twice as much fatigue as a person of heavier mould. ‘Please to sit, monsieur. "He's not my son," rejoined the carpenter. Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. The following morning found him in the doctor's waiting room, a black cigar turning unlighted in his teeth. “I came to London,” said Ann Veronica, “rather because of my own difficulty. You see, we travelled second class, and we are in the least known quarter of Paris. ” “And mine,” murmured his companion, with the smile still lingering upon his lips.
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