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It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. He saluted awkwardly. Sheila had dropped glaring hints that she knew, which Chuck tacitly acknowledged with a lowered gaze. . Even in her own sorry skin-and-bones state of wraithlike pallor and gray under eye circles she was drawing unwanted attention from would-be admirers. “For nothing, do you call it?” he declared. ToC Mr.
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