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’ ‘Can you prove it?’ demanded Hilary. She was curious, and at the same time clearly resolved she must not hear it. In the artificial light her skin had the tint and lustre of a yellow pearl. A wedding procession turned the corner. McClintock, coming from below, saw them and went forward. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. "I hear you plotting with your wicked associates," cried Mrs.
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