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‘By traitors I am surrounded!’ ‘Stop talking utter twaddle,’ ordered Roding, marching up to the desk. “How are you?” He asked, realizing she was unnerved by the very sound of his voice. But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. Just as he had told Gerald would be the case, there was nothing of interest to hear, especially as he had met the girl in London only last night. At any rate she must see me.
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