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"Who's there?" cried Rachel. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. In all these weeks she had not once knelt to pray. I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. We should not bar any engagements at private houses, but in other respects the arrangement must be exclusive. Spurling? Why, if Captain Sheppard should get off, it 'ud be fifty guineas out of my way.

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