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With a swirl of her floral chintz petticoats, she placed herself in the capacious window seat, accepted the glass Gerald handed to her, and smiled mischievously up at him. Nobody regards Constance or Vee as a delicate trifle. "You are an angel," she cried, with a look beaming with delight. "Shall I fetch the light, Captain?" whispered Blueskin.
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