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As she neared the bottom of the dip in Piccadilly she saw a woman approaching her from the opposite direction—a tall woman who at the first glance seemed altogether beautiful and fine. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. “Did you ever see women so weary-looking and so dowdy? They do not talk. "I was right," replied Jack, returning as coolly as if nothing had happened.
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