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” “It is you,” he cried, “you, who are talking folly, when you speak of friendship between you and me. " The Wastrel laughed. And, after all, a fine clear sky of bright colors is the signal to come out of hiding and rejoice and go on with life. ‘A spitfire, ain’t she, sir?’ Roding ignored this. I wrenched this off, and in an envelope addressed to me in faded ink, I found the locket and the pearls. ‘But don’t let me stop you from going to see Charvill.
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