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Chapter 19 PER INCERTAS, CERTA AMOR.

Sir Arthur glanced round the bleak little wayside station with disapproval. The December day was grey and raw; the December wind blustered along the exposed platform, in chilling tempestuous gusts; and the upland country that stretched to right and left of the line, wore a highly uninviting aspect.

"Now, what is Margaret doing in this desolate p

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