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"Thank you, thank you!" she said mechanically, as Elizabeth folded and fastened her shawl for her and descended immediately. Elizabeth watched her take, not Ascott's arm, but Mr. Lyon's, and walk down the terrace in the starlight. "Some'at's wrong. I'd like to know who's been a-vexin' of her," thought fiercely the young servant. No, nobody had been "a-vexing" her mistress.
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