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CHAPTER XXVII His idea, cleverly planned, was to shatter her resistance, to confound her suddenly by striking her mind with words which would rob her coherent thought. Perhaps I ought not to; but this isn't a case to fiddle-faddle over. He did not know—and probably never would unless she told him—that it was very easy (and comfortable for a woman) to fall into slatternly ways in this latitude. ‘You do not like it?’ ‘That is hardly the point. Mr. Shoplatch. Manning,” she said, “I HAVE a confession to make.
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