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“Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. And behind— there was Paris, memories of amazing things, memories which made his cheeks burn and his heart beat quickly as he sat there waiting for her. ‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked. I’ll feel fine as soon as I get out of my wet clothes. “Hainault, Celeste’s friend.
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