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His eyes were narrow with desire like a panther’s as he grinned at seeing her visibly satisfied. She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can. Ireton; for may I be hanged myself if I don't believe he'll be as good as his word. No! not even the derivation! But the fashion’s been set and in it you must be. You have grown into my life, and I cannot tear you out. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. ‘In the bookroom, sir,’ answered the man, his eyes round as they took in the furious beauty at the visitor’s side.
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