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” The tall young man dropped his eye-glass and smiled. He had let go his name so easily as that! What was the name she had given? Ruth something; he could not remember. ” “You are jealous,” she declared contemptuously. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. Beside me on Anna’s table was a pistol.
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