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A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. “Come in here a moment, will you, Blanche,” he said. These things were common knowledge among the bon ton, who were generously welcoming these unfortunate escapees. The knots and broken pale that made the garden-fence scalable, and gave access to the fields behind, were still to be traced. And imprinting a kiss upon his mother's cold lips, he left the room.
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