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Oh, it was very bad. For the present, he murmured his farewells, and turning, caught Hilary’s eye and walked away, crossing the ballroom to move into the less opulent, and less crowded, saloon next door where servants were dispensing refreshments. CHAPTER XXIX. Your life is like a funeral March. To love in such a way, it is excessively selfish. "Not my king's," returned Wood.
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