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She was trying by some wonderful, secret, and motionless gymnastics to restrain her tears. What more was to be done? Frith’s investigations had proved fruitful, and the man was now keeping an eye on Valade. Wood, who was standing at the edge of a raised platform, anxiously waving his hand to him. Love—admiration for your matchless beauty alone sways me. "What for?" demanded Wood. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door.
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