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CHAPTER XVII. I thank God for His sunlight on your face. ‘You could have fetched me home. “I will have your true reason. Following her lead, he fortified himself with a swallow of the excellent Madeira before responding. “It is part of the irony of life,” he said. How's that strike you?" "Very well, sir. “Shari told me. She thought of Capes. "Who—who is the Marquis de Chatillon?" "Your adopted son, Thames Darrell," answered Winifred. Find that boy. You are your nephew's executioner, or he is yours.
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