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On the day he carried the manuscript to Copeley's he brought back a packet of letters, magazines, and newspapers. By and by he gathered enough courage to lean toward her. He gently took the roses from her and laid them on the pillow. There were two. She found it extremely difficult to infuse an air of quiet correctitude into her return through the window, and when she was safely inside she waved clinched fists and executed a noiseless dance of rage. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street.
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