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Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. It—it is nothing,’ she said, although with a tremor in her voice. She was still good at following orders. "Why you pretended not to recognize the photograph of the young fellow you toted around these diggings all day yesterday. He forces an engagement upon her. “There was a keg, hash, LSD, pot, you know, the usual. There were probably others buried around the 13 house, she had seen a suspicious working refrigerator in the back of the garage mess, but she wasn’t about to check it out.
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