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Wood's. They had not so far been of much personal interest to Gerald, but tonight was different. She read for half an hour, then closed the book because Spurlock appeared to have fallen asleep. ‘Believe it or not, I do it for pleasure. She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. Milice,’ Gerald translated. I cannot tell you much about it, but my bad times are over for the present. "That's fine," said O'Higgins.
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