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And it’s no good pretending there is one when there isn’t. “I imagine,” Sir John said, “that your sister would acquaint him with it. See how he gets on, father," he added, appealing to Wood: "the box seems to grow under his hands. Read that letter, Thames—my lord marquis, I mean. She remained by the door until the walls of the city swallowed the bobbing lantern. "Buck up! While there's life there's hope. Her hair, once red, faded to a thin gray that she kept cut into a practical short bob. He made her tell him the core of the difficulty.
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