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The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. “To tell you the truth, it has seemed just lately as though we were becoming in some measure estranged. \"Oh. ‘Tell me about the convent? Were you happy there? They were kind to you, the nuns?’ ‘Oh, but yes. I shall find him yet. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion. She remained for some seconds crouching at the fender, poker in hand.
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