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There was a gentle rustling of skirts. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. ‘Is there a resemblance?’ ‘This is Mary Remenham?’ ‘That is my late niece, yes. " "Thank you! thank you!" faltered Jack, in a voice full of emotion. The island was snake-free. ” At this point she had perceived that she was drifting from her subject. And for many years, that was the way it was. He removed his cockaded hat, putting it down between them as he sat at the other end, placing himself at an angle and, crossing his legs, leaned back at his ease, his eyes fixed on her face.
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