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” “Give me something to do,” said Ann Veronica, interrupting her persuasions at last. ” Annabel moistened her dry lips with a handkerchief steeped in eau de Cologne. "Your name is Spurlock?" "It is. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. Walking into the bedroom, she quickly shed the miniskirt and sweater, folding them without ceremony. "The Chevalier shall hear of this," whispered the woollen-draper. "Shoot him! shoot him! Put him out of hish mishery," cried the Jew. But I don't look for peace on this side the grave.
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