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” “Thanks for the nice evening, John. ” She commented. Good words, without deeds, are rushes and reeds. She was quivering with the sense of Capes at her side and glowing with heroic love; it seemed to her that if they put their hands jointly against the Alps and pushed they would be able to push them aside. And even she was forced to admit to herself that this last resource of hers was a slender reed on which to lean.
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