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” He took them out and showed her. The door was closed— locked,—and the pair were heard descending the stairs. Look somewhere else in life. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. “We are only in the dawn of the Age of Friendship,” he said, “when interest, I suppose, will take the place of passions. ‘Fiddle, Gerald. They were silent and no longer observant, being more or less exhausted by the tedious action of the chairs. Then she would write and tell her father what she had done, and put their relationship on a new footing.
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