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She was about to rush to his side, when she saw his clenched hands rise and fall upon the sand repeatedly. Then she raised the glass nearer to her lips. Her cheeks flushed a dull red. She ran to the lamp and extinguished it. She thought me— filthy. " "Very right, my love," said Wood, "very sensibly remarked. “It can’t make any difference to you, and there are not half a dozen people in Paris who could tell us apart.
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