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His shirt also was unbuttoned, and disclosed a neck like that of an ox, and a chest which might have served as a model for a Hercules. This is your choice. She was shifting, moving back. You certainly had to hand it to these Chinks. “Of course,” said Miss Miniver—she went on in a regularly undulating voice —“we DO please men. He beamed a little as she disappeared into the orchestra room, a cacophony of tuning instruments. They were childless and servantless, and they had reduced simple living to the finest of fine arts.
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