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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. Wood's boat, impelled alike by oar and tide, shot past the mark at which it aimed; and before it could be again brought about, the struggle had terminated. Then it was the woman herself who was changed. ‘Stay, Saling!’ The butler halted, looking round enquiringly. “Heavens, look at the time!” she exclaimed.
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