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235 “No, I think she’s out sick with a throat infection. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. Advancing towards Wood, Jonathan fixed his keen gray eyes upon him, and demanded, in a stern tone whether the persons who had taken refuge in the adjoining house, were bailiffs. “What did it matter?” she cried.
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