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“You heard no pistol-shot?” “None. ’ ‘Yolande, my maid?’ ‘You don’t need a maid,’ Martha said stoutly. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. "Because she's a fire-opal, and to the world at large they bring bad luck. It was he who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear. I am quite indiscriminate, I assure you. Fool that I was to marry for beauty! I ought to have remembered that a fair woman and a slashed gown always find some nail in the way.
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