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‘But I was not there. Her curiosity was insatiable, her dreams filled with happy speculation over what hair color her babies would inherit. The rainstorm, short-lived, began to subside. She had never said anything so horrible to anyone in her life. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. With this view he struck off into a narrow street on the left, and soon entered a small alehouse, over the door of which hung the sign of the "Welsh Trumpeter.
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