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The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. “You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. Stanley, whose family had been by any reckoning inconsiderable—to use the kindliest term. White gasped, and then stiffened. He seemed so clean anyway, his fair 215 skin, his light brown hair, there almost seemed to be no point. She saw his purpose and his doubt hesitated also, and then went to him, took his coat lapels, and kissed him on the cheek.
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