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A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. I feel like a fraudulent trustee. Her words, as she said them, seemed to her to mean nothing, and there was so much that struggled for expression. " "Those terms were a third of my estate," observed Trenchard bitterly. ‘Truth is, it’s Gerald who’s put me in the devil’s own temper, ma’am. I suppose because it IS the chief thing in life. He rested on one elbow.
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