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You don’t know. Satisfied that he had solved his difficulty, he proceeded to his room. “Perhaps,” she said, “it is the London climate. And you see, I don’t turn my back, and I am looking at you and thinking about you from top to toe. She flailed against the doctor’s grip but after what seemed an eternity of kicking and flailing, amazingly, he had not seemed weakened in the slightest by her resistance. His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away.
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