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When the woollen-draper was nearly worn out, the Amazon watched her opportunity, and hitting him on the arm, disabled it. She won’t be a problem from now on. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. She held it down with the poker, looking nervously over her shoulder.
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