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‘Let it fall!’ ‘Brute!’ she spat, struggling, and he knew at once he had guessed aright. He had abandoned his oars, and the boat was drifting with the stream towards the enemy. Then she passed from the room on the arm of General Lord Charvill, chatting animatedly to him. That terrible laughter, just before his senses had left him! Why? Here was a word that volleyed at her from all directions, numbed and bewildered her: the multiple echoes of her own first utterance of the word.

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