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He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. Gerald was instantly on the alert. "Wasn't he in some way connected with the Jacobite plots?" "He was," replied Thames. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. She kissed Cathy's soft cheek as she entered the warm kitchen. ” “It’s gone. There was a strained, eager expression on his face.
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