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’ ‘Your plan, then. He was leaning against a window frame, his hat in his hand. "What do you mean?" cried Winifred in alarm. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. There are also the letters which were scattered about Wild's room after the murder of Sir Rowland.
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