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‘Be quiet, man,’ snapped Hilary, watching the Frenchman go by with the lad after him. Don’t be frightened, dear. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. On beholding the intruders, his fears changed to exultation, and he uttered a roar of satisfaction as he glared at them, which could only be likened to the cry of some savage denizen of the plains.
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