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. The latter took from his pocket a small note-book and pencil. I’ve always had a sneaking desire for the writing-trade. His face was that of a quick, intelligent-looking boy, with fine hazel eyes, and a clear olive complexion. But the great point was still unaccomplished. She got up, put the neat cuffs she had made into her work-basket, and went to the bureau for the little cards in the morocco case. He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. She had omitted that the flu had been called the Black Death and that it was a dead child that had been inside that womb, so many hundreds of years ago. I shall lose my fees and the laced coat. “Can’t stop, thanks,” he answered. "Well, my pretty dears," he added, "—to see your husband, eh? You must make the most of your time.
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