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’ A reluctant laugh escaped him. ‘C’est ridicule. \" 66 She commented as more doors slammed. She had fallen into it naturally, the only expression of the dance she had ever seen or known, and that a stolen sweet. After all, why need one look down. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude.
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