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He kissed her at the door. He advanced a step towards her. Walking into the bedroom, she quickly shed the miniskirt and sweater, folding them without ceremony. The decision had been sound. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement. I hated the stuff. “Why shouldn’t one face the facts of one’s self?” She stood up. She smiled and started for the stairs without reply. His most eager inquiries and most lavish bribes could gain no further information than that she had left for England, and that her address was—London. He drew a little sigh of relief.
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