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“I tell you it was a lie!” he shouted wildly. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. But Jack was too nimble for him. “NO!” she said, at last, with something in her voice that reminded Ann Veronica of a sprung tennis-racket. ” He too rose. “Yes, he made them all. The evenings were dulcet and soft.
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