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" "Company!" echoed Rachel; "at this time of night?" "Company, child," repeated Kneebone. A fire enveloped her, a fire which was strangely healing, filling her heart with warmth, blotting out the menace of the world. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. It’s Providence.
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