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He seemed to avoid meeting Anna’s eyes as much as possible. My name is Annabel, not Anna. In the meanwhile, as he talked, he scrutinized her face, ran his eyes over her careless, gracious poise, wondered hard about her. "Where did you learn the song I heard just now?" he demanded, in an authoritative tone. He tasted like cinders and ash, but not of smoke. But never mind that," said McClintock grinning as he drew the dish of bread-fruit toward him. It gave him plenty of time to obsess over his random crushes, which worried her.
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