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Recurrently she heard: "I don't know; I really don't know. There was a pause, while the steel grey eyes sliced at her. ‘Go and fetch her home,’ he said; ‘it isn’t what we thought! It’s just a practical joke of hers. And the rumors! You two are fiends, ghouls, murdering wolves!” “You don’t care about Fritz and Anna! You only care for yourself!” Lucy screamed, her words falling on deaf ears. She found no ready reply to that, and he went on: “This music is the food of love.
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