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. "Hear me, Jack!" shrieked his mother. The youth produced a crumpled-up card from his waistcoat pocket. At the door through which she had entered the room stood the so-called Monsieur Valade. “Well,” she said, “good-night, father. This morning he heard voices—McClintock's and the Wastrel's. ’ A giggle answered him. ’ ‘But what have I done?’ protested Gerald innocently.
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