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Inquiring for Mrs. “Am I hurting you?” She asked. “Well,” he said slowly, “I had met you three times—before Drummond’s dinner. Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs. ’ He became aware of his friend’s face before him. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring.

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