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She winced as he thrust the fact at her, was about to answer, and checked herself. She was looking about her, and her face was dark with anger. You don’t have to live forever to understand that. She even thought that perhaps she might come to love him, in spite of that faint indefinable flavor of absurdity that pervaded his courtly bearing. He hated the taste of it. " Ideas are never born; they are suggested; they are planted seeds.
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