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She would not look at him, would not think of him; when her mind wavered, then she muttered to herself in the darkness so as to keep hold of her generalizations. Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. How she hated talking of the man who was responsible for her being brought into the world. His attraction for her was now written plainly on his freckled face, revealed by the many drinks he had imbibed. "I've done nothing to offend you," persisted Jack. It’s all right. "Perhaps you could point out such a party, Mr. ” “I don’t know.
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