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He growled in his throat and, thrusting his coat open, revealed his own buckled sword-belt. "Let me see," replied Wood; "exactly twelve years ago last November. He got up brusquely. “But I’m afraid you are going to be in a hopeless minority here as regards me. Her belly was being touched, she felt her thighs caressed softly. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. His eyes never left her face. Her eyes were wide and bright.
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