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The Widgett method of thought puzzled her weakly rhetorical mind. Your mother, for instance, couldn’t. You are taking it for granted that I am ‘Alcide. Well, you shall know. ” “Young? I am twenty-four. " "But, Lord, man!—don't you ever get lonesome?" "Don't you?" "I'm too busy. \" She said. Her eyes fell, and then sought his again with timid interest. A dog appeared unexpectedly upon the threshold.
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