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“Would you wait for me?” Manning was silent for a space. She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force. Still, his robust frame enabled him to hold out. Fire; she was full of it. “No lecturing, Anna!” she exclaimed. "My friends, Mr. She stared out of the paned glass window, watching the trees being blown bare by the gale force. ’ ‘Even that he is, one must be practical.
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