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She could smell him almost as strongly as she could the new paint on the fire escape walls, along with the wool suit and the weird polyester smell of his wet umbrella. He sat in much the same attitude, and she stood just as she had stood when he told her she could not go to the Fadden Dance. There were seven tales in all—short stories—a method of expression quite strange to her, after the immense canvases of Dickens and Hugo. 1703. Upon this, Jack earnestly and eloquently addressed himself to the bench, and besought that a petition which he had prepared to be laid before the King might be read. ’ Which effectually silenced her.
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