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You couldn’t help it. Spurlock advanced, the censer swung high. "What's that?—Jack's voice!" "It is," replied her son. Her hair was held back in a filigreed barrette. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. “I love some one else. One could go to him and tell him one loved him. ’ ‘Oh, is he?’ Gerald said grimly.
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