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exam. 58 \"Why will you not touch me?\" She cried out, sitting up, her head in her hands. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. At that, the girl jumped up. No one had lived here since old man Remenham had died some eighteen months ago, for the heir, so it was rumoured, was a relative with property of his own.
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