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" "Mr. It looked very patient, she thought, and a little self-satisfied. Tell me. " Spurlock lowered his voice. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. “No, I’d like to. Still, it was rather terrible to suspect that one had fallen from grace, but nevertheless the thing was possible. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. ’ Martha looked up, belligerence in her tone. She colored faintly. ” “It is you,” he cried, “you, who are talking folly, when you speak of friendship between you and me.
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