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“There,” he said, “you don’t treat me fairly, Miss Stanley. “Child!” he cried. Sheppard superior to her station. "I can't hold it much longer—it'll break my wrist. I should feel that I had been obliged to find some one else to fight my battles for me. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. You'll find me at supper. “One has such ridiculous ideas of the wicked common people and the beautiful machinery of order that ropes them in. Her pulses began to race. "Well, Sir?" gasped Sir Rowland.
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