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‘His granddaughter?’ ‘Yes, his son’s daughter. . ” “Of course I am. ” They remained looking at each other for three or four seconds. “How CAN I tell him?” whispered Miss Stanley. Lucy grabbed his shirtsleeve, whispering on tiptoe. " "It matters not what I think," replied Wild. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. \"Junior prom is in two and a half weeks. " "Murdered!" ejaculated Winifred.
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