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She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. She threw hat and coat on the bed and sat down before the fire. Here was an instrument which might be of the greatest service to him in accomplishing his design. "That's for Mrs. \"Want your pencil back?\" She asked him warily, squinting. “You must fetch a doctor,” she said. But oh, how weary I am! I know.
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