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” The detective thrust his notebook into his pocket. It was the blouse that gave Lucy away. I was at work at it yesterday and the day before. He thrust out a rhetorical hand. Don’t you think that the shade of my hair is lovely?” “There is nothing particular the matter with the shade,” Anna answered, “but it is not nearly so becoming as before you touched it. ” And then he flashed his whole conception of the relations of men and women upon her in one astonishing question. "Where shall I fly?" exclaimed the lady, bewildered with terror.
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