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I am Lucilla Froxfield, you must know. Knives were worse, especially when you were stabbed back and left traces of your own blood at the crime scene. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. But they found him on the veranda when they returned from McClintock's that evening. Not far from him was a knot of lads drinking, swearing, and playing at dice as eagerly and as skilfully as any of the older hands. “If only Sir John were not Sir John I would ask you to come and have some supper.
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