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Here's his health likewise. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. " "Sir Rowland Trenchard!" echoed Jack, in amazement. " "Then it was not a dream!" ejaculated Sir Rowland in a hollow voice, and as if speaking to himself. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love.
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