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” Sir John stamped his letters, brushed his hat, and carefully gave his moustache an upward curl before the looking-glass. He barely shook the rose petals from her hair. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. And lunged once more. Manning, her aunt and father, neighbors, customs, traditions, forces. Threw it out.
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