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“You will pardon me, sir,” he said in a subdued tone, “but I think that you have forgotten to look at your engagement book. This was followed by heavy footsteps, and in another moment the dining-room door was flung open. He smiled inwardly. For that my father so stupide was in love with this Suzanne Valade, is it not?’ ‘Well, miss,’ temporised Mrs Ibstock, ‘we didn’t rightly know that then. She laughed altogether in her old manner. To-night all this may seem hard and cruel. She fixed her eyes upon it and ran, keeping always as far as possible in the shadow of the hedge, gazing fearfully every now and then down along the valley for the white smoke of the train. A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand.
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