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" "Well, well, since you desire it, I'll say no more," returned Wood. Stanley, with an imperious gesture, “to come in here. He lunched in the Legal Club in Chancery Lane, and met Ogilvy. She spent the morning up to ten in writing a series of unsuccessful letters to Ramage, which she tore up unfinished; and finally she desisted and put on her jacket and went out into the lamp-lit obscurity and slimy streets. I wouldn't accept my life from him. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you. ” “It is,” Annabel answered shortly. He first met her when he had caught her smoking behind the Joliet LaudrO-Matic one cool overcast day in late August.
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