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The Reverend Henry Dolby performed the cermony, and his wife and daughter were witnesses. A quick flush stained her cheeks. ‘Nothing would do for her but to come here,’ grumbled Hilary, wiping his heated brow with a pocket handkerchief dragged from his immaculate white uniform breeches. His fatigue was tacitly understood within the family; it was a phenomenon which everyone acknowledged as related to the trades. His slightest move caused her infinite pleasure. The smell of gunpowder was strong in the room. It was a habit of his to talk to himself.

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