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“It’s the stir of spring,” he said. Suddenly Anna felt her hand seized and imprisoned in Courtlaw’s burning fingers. But Miss Miniver was highly unsatisfactory. “You heard no pistol-shot?” “None. Still, it was rather terrible to suspect that one had fallen from grace, but nevertheless the thing was possible. After all there are other things. So appalling was the sight, that even the murderers—familiar as they were with scenes of slaughter,—looked aghast at it. Sir John, by instinct and training, was an unimaginative person.
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