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Nevertheless, relief washed over her, her body rejoicing in the afterglow of twenty years of tension released. Still—” Then, with incredible and obviously deliberate stupidity, and a voice as flat as her own, he asked, “Who is the man?” Her spirit raged within her at the dumbness, the paralysis that had fallen upon her. The girl was in the game now, and that narrowed the circle. She’ll tell everyone soon, if only to gain herself some attention!” He cried under his breath. Brendon. The sun-canvas was stowed; and Spurlock's chair was set forward the foremast, where the bulging jib cast a sliding blue shadow over him. G'night, kids.
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