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She snapped out of her blissful state and looked at him squarely in the eyes. "At the Black Lion in our street," replied Jack, without hesitation. He got up. There are boats on the lake and shady depths and wildernesses of pine-wood. “So Cheveney was her friend, you think, eh?” he remarked. She was a large, resilient girl, with a foolish smile, a still more foolish expression of earnestness, and a throaty contralto voice.
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