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Like a petulant child he snapped. Are you going to write a novel?” “Not I,” she answered gaily. ” “And made you give up a political meeting,” she reminded him. “I was never at any such dinner, and I am quite sure that I do not know you. “I do hope I have been able to make you understand how I feel, that you don’t consider me a hopeless prig. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. Earles was absolutely indifferent. .
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