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To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. ” “Relaxation, perhaps. ” She put on a short dress that was sky blue, with thick straps about the shoulders. “Agreed,” he said, “certainly,” and drew a checkbook toward him. On that night,—that fatal night,—Winifred crushed all the hopes that were rising in my heart. “Annabel at last,” he shouted.
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