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” She looked up at him quickly. Plote was sleeping or deaf. Keep your eye upon the lad. Probably he will come around to-morrow and begin all over again. She was weeping now. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. The colouring was green and white, with softly shaded electric lights, an alcove bedstead, which was a miracle of daintiness, white furniture, and a long low dressing-table littered all over with a multitude of daintily fashioned toilet appliances. But to confess about Gerald— no, a thousand times. He frowned. ” He turned upon her almost fiercely.
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