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‘Wait for me. “I can see you and Anna groaning and nodding your grave heads together. Occasionally the canvas snapped as the wind veered slightly. Hearing the approach of the rider, Mr. “I suppose,” said her father, “I have read at least half the novels that have been at all successful during the last twenty years. She regarded the young man coldly. Well-balanced, sane, wasn’t I? You never heard anyone call me a madman? I’m pretty near being one now, and it’s her fault. I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school. I have established a fine trade. .
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