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‘But you are idiot. In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. You spoke just now of a youth whom Mr. Sydney sprang up. “I hope you will not compel me to say again that I do not know the man’s name, nor, to the best of my belief, have I ever seen him before in my life. ‘But you are idiot. . . On this side of the canal she has no place to go.

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