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Wonderful! The water, dripping from you, must have looked like pearls. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. Stanley, and paused. Kneebone's cheeks glowed with rage, and he set down the wine untasted, while Blueskin resumed his song. There was still the pity of understanding in Ruth's eyes. At this juncture, Sir Cecil and his followers appeared at the threshold. CHAPTER XXII.
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