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132 “I thought you wanted me—you told me so when we kissed in the park!” He cried. Martin’s eyes seemed about to pop out of his head. And how can I get into one brief letter the complex accumulated desires of what is now, I find on reference to my diary, nearly sixteen months of letting my mind run on you— ever since that jolly party at Surbiton, where we raced and beat the other boat. You have darkened your eyebrows, you have even changed your style of dress. ‘Monsieur Charvill thought perhaps that his daughter would find not a welcome.
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