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She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk. Towards this box Sharples directed his steps, and, unlocking a hatch in the door, disclosed a recess scarcely as large, and certainly not as clean, as a dog-kennel. Jonathan stepped behind a curtain. Her features were still slightly marked by the disorder alluded to in the description of her as a child,—but that was the only drawback to her beauty. "Another time," replied the thief-taker, evasively.
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