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“You are late,” she murmured. “I heard nothing,” he declared, “and my ears are good. I have come thirteen thousand miles for this young fellow; I'm ready to go galloping thirteen thousand more. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. But the Yale spirit!" Ah Cum laughed. . It’s these damned novels. “Dear friend,” she said, “remember that you are speaking to one who has failed in the only serious object which she has ever sought to accomplish.
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