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But one changes the style of one's clothes yearly. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. Is there anything you'd like?" "Books. A fortnight passed, then a month. "You read it, Ruth. She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave. "Why, you don't think as how they're crimps, do you?" Ben inquired. ’ He turned to the lodgekeeper behind him, whose shocked fear had given place to a direful frown.
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