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During all their long comradeship he had never so much as ventured to hold her fingers. Ennison, or any other young man. “By Jove!” he exclaimed. Sheppard, passing her hand across her brow; "but my memory is gone—quite gone. Jackson?" said Wood, significantly. McClintock watched her interestedly until her golden head vanished below; then, with tolerant pity, he looked down at Spurlock, who had closed his eyes.
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