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. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. "No," replied Hogarth, hastily effacing the sketch. It remains a bizarre idea to me that Lucy Alberti could ever become so detailed or so real, but I’m certainly glad to have made her acquaintance. *** Madame la Comtesse de St Erme regarded the English major with a lacklustre eye, Gerald thought. "What are you waiting for?" asked Jack, impatiently.
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