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She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. ‘Where is there that I can go?’ All at once Alderley felt acutely suspicious. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair.
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