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The figure of the girl upon it in plain black dress, standing with her hands behind her, was an undeniable and astonishing likeness of herself. A black-garbed young lad leapt out and let down the steps. " "Mine is Howard Spurlock. "I couldn't go on!" "You'll need something more than courage now. But she must not laugh. ” “Your priestess,” whispered Ann Veronica, softly. Think of those days in Paris. “Ye Gods!” she said at last.
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