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’ ‘Unless it is Captain Roding,’ put in Lucilla Froxfield from the curved back sofa on the other side of the fireplace. Pews had been brought in and set in two rows before the huge table, covered in white cloth, that formed the altar at the far end. Courtlaw sat with folded arms. “How are those books any different from the witchcraft books?” “I dunno. I think that I have become a drug drinker. ‘I understand you have not been in England very long,’ he said in English, noting that Madame raised her fan and lowered her gaze demurely. Decidedly this was imbecile. But not a word to him of Lady Trafford's absence—mind that. In a moment or two, Madame Valade recovered her sangfroid. " CHAPTER XV.
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