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“It is Rhea’s infant. "Why do you laugh?" he asked. He displayed none of the airy optimism of their previous talk over the downland gate. I suppose it depends on her own state of mind. "The danger's past," whispered Bess. “I heard the clock strike as I crossed the square,” she answered. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude.
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