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” He said. ‘If you had told him that I would rather die than see him, he would not have come. "Miss Enschede, you're seven kinds of a brick!" "A brick?" He chuckled. ’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. "Jack!" she cried, raising her head. Ah! I have it," he added, after a moment's deliberation; "he's there, I'll be sworn. It is of no use.
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