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As he approached, Edward heard rude sounds of merriment, amongst which the joining of many voices in a "ree-raw" chorus indicated that a carouse was going forward within.
There was no glimmer of light from the lower windows, not even the noiseless flitting of a bat over the dark little court-yard. His key let him in. He knew that his servants were in bed. There was something cynical in his ree-raw independence. It was unlike what he had been used to, and its savagery suited with his bitter and unsociable mood of late.
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