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The bleach had ruined it, with yellow-orange streaks invading the frizzy white that cascaded in wavy tendrils coated with greasy hairspray. "But never mind who, or what I am. "Fire!—murder—thieves!—I've got one of 'em!" "Come along," cried Jack. Emile looked at her, then down, and clearly caught the bright gleam on the floor. Gerald hoped he had covered all options and had resisted the temptation to pay mademoiselle a visit.
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