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Then he opened the other eye, and stared at them through that. Neither stare seemed to please him. It was not Gaiters's way to march through the wood at that hour in the morning. What meant this unseemly disturbance of Phasianus's domain? His suspicions, never long at rest, woke up. Moreover, somewhere at the back of his brain rose a memory, a little, tiny speck of a memory, which grew.
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