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’ ‘Parbleu,’ exclaimed the girl, jumping up in some dudgeon. "The poor young man!" sighed Angelina. He—In fact, he—he locked me in my room. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. I'll engage to get the job done by six. Oh, Heavens; that I should have ever indulged a hope of happiness while that terrible man lives!" "Compose yourself, Joan," said Wood; "all will yet be well.
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