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He hated the taste of it. He was sitting back from the table now, with one arm over the back of his green chair and the other resting on the little table. We two just love each other—the real, identical other—all the time. ’ ‘What husband?’ ‘Precisely. That is an evil place!” She cried. A fortnight passed, then a month. Like most officers, he’d had it especially made, for a man who loved danger had need of a precision instrument of defence.
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