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” Sir John stamped his letters, brushed his hat, and carefully gave his moustache an upward curl before the looking-glass. And then presently these clouds began to wear thin and expose steep, deep slopes, going down and down, with grass and pine-trees, down and down, and at last, through a great rent in the clouds, bare roofs, shining like very minute pin-heads, and a road like a fibre of white silk-Macugnana, in Italy. "A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband. But some little distance behind him, someone had come out from the shadow of the building and, seeing the Frenchman reappear, darted back again as quickly. There he paused again, half turning his back and pretending to look for someone among the soldiers on the benches.

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