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“I see the pointer,” she said. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. And we men would work for them and serve them in loyal fealty. "Ah! Quilt Arnold, my man, is it you? By the powers! I'm glad to see you. A buxom piece, who looked, Gerald decided, as if she would be more at home in an amorous engagement in a hayloft than sitting demurely in a ballroom.
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