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Valade accorded the major’s greeting a brief nod and gave his attention back to St Erme. “I wish he had,” she said. From suburbs, from country towns—everywhere. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. There would be no moon. " "A miniature! Of whom?" "That I can't say," replied Jack, mysteriously. “I’m so glad my Mom’s letting me go out tonight.

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