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They crowded to the big window, and saw, through the wet flicker of tiny sprouting leaves, a wind-swept sky with racing clouds and brilliant stars blazing in the dark, serene spaces between the hurrying masses of billowy vapor. "Oh, I wouldn't put it that way," cried Judith, scandalized. "I'd just sort of hint around gently. Maybe they dug it up long ago." "Going away, and where, may I ask?".
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"I love Maurice. I intend to marry him," she repeated, and an obstinate expression came over her face. This discovery at once irritated, amazed and perplexed the major. That the handkerchief of Mrs. Dallas should be bound around the head of Jaggard was strange, but that it should be perfumed with the deadly scent which impregnated the devil-stick was stranger still. Had Mrs. Dallas found the wand of sleep? Had Mrs. Dallas perfumed the handkerchief with its cruel poison? Had Mrs. Dallas drugged or stupefied Jaggard on that fatal night by means of that saturated handkerchief? These were the vital questions which presented themselves to the puzzled major, and which he found himself unable to answer. Patricia's heart beat hard with the beauty of the woven word and melody, and she gave a little gulp to keep back the tears that sprang so readily. "What do you mean?" cried Jen, his curiosity getting the better of his anger. "Is it possible that you believe in the innocence of this man?".
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