His curiosity put itself into a question. “You!” she exclaimed. It had her raven locks, her pouting lips. But two weeks later he returned. '—'It's not to be thought of,' says I, thumping the table till every glass on it jingled; 'and I know a way as'll prevent it. There was the motor accident, too. Pretty good stuff, some of it. Ray Plote would not leave a written explanation.
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