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He returned to the car, Cokes in hand. The clock struck half-past ten. Mon cher major, Melusine began. ‘Now then, missie, where do you think you’re going?’ ‘I must see Jacques only for one little minute,’ Melusine told him prettily, fluttering her lashes. The shouts, yells, and groans which they uttered, and which were echoed by the concourse in the rear, were perfectly frightful.
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