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Spurling, and her now accepted suitor, resumed their seats. "Your answer, gem'men?" demanded Sharples. "More slang," he said. I do not believe that you will marry David Courtlaw. When it came time to eat once again, she hid out on the beach, a remote fastness beyond the city walls, a swampy morass that everyone avoided. She did not want particularly to know what had caused his agony, what had driven him back to the old coat.
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