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He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. She always left the table when they began to smoke. Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. " The tone was neutral. " "I tell 'ee what, saltwater," said Ben, "I'll lay you my fare—and that'll be two shillin'—I'm back in an hour. To lose was death, quickly and mercilessly delivered. My motive in coming hither is to serve you, and save your life.
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