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At the bottom of the trunk was a large manila envelope, unmarked. "Your business, Sir?" returned the other, stiffly. I wonder what men would say if we threw the mask aside—if we really told them what WE thought of them, really showed them what WE were. He was a stranger. I give myself to you. “Hi John. The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen. Mr. It would be protective; it would with age turn to silver unnoticeably.
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