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I call myself a man of the world, a man of many experiences, but I never knew what love meant—until I met your sister. His hand went with an almost instinctive inquiry to his jawbone again. I spoke a thought aloud. Weeks hurled past, weeks that turned into months. If you knew anything about Canton ware, you were, as like as not, sorely tempted to stuff a teacup into your pocket.
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