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We needn’t try and give ourselves airs. She went into shock. I'm no mollycoddle. Tell me that again. " "Couldn't … couldn't I go with you this afternoon?" "Too hot. His voice now had lost its ironies. She's my mealticket. ” She was frightened—his anger always did frighten her—and in her resolve to conceal her fright she carried a queen-like dignity to what she felt even at the time was a preposterous pitch.
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