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"Oh! nothin' partickler—mere curossity," replied Terence. And yet—I love you. Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils. My late husband, I mean. When she saw Ann Veronica she stood for a moment as if entranced, and then advanced with outstretched hands. She found herself struggling with a storm of tears. I wonder. "Then, of course, you must know.
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