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Perhaps she did love research for its own sake, she was certainly gifted enough. The winter of 1348 seemed to last an eternity, but the Pestilence struck in one day. Pity he's ta'en to bad ways so airly. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. That blow made me a thief. ‘This, as you see, is an identity for your cousin, André Valade. ‘But I have been perfectly honest about that. Her roving eagerness was at all times shaded with shyness, reserve, repression.
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