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" Trenchard, meanwhile, whose gaze was fixed upon the boy, became livid as death, but he moved not a muscle. We’re the hysterical animal, Mr. “Agreed,” he said, “certainly,” and drew a checkbook toward him. “DEAR MR. " "My poor son!" groaned the widow, sinking backwards. This was enough for the poor widow. He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table. ” He stared in amazement at this new aspect of the situation. And now she had sent Jack away.
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