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He glanced up at Roding and met his eyes. “You are coming my way,” Courtlaw answered. “Please forgive me coming up, Miss Pellissier, but you have not been down to dinner for three nights, and—Brendon and I—we were afraid that you might be unwell. I'm not particular what or where. He tore it down just as the Wastrel rose, wavering slightly. He roused curiosities.
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