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“She found my collection of witchcraft books under my bed and threw them away. He lit a cigarette and loitered about. It was supposed he was drowned in crossing the river, as his body had never been found. The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. Sadly, the Christmas break came to an end. All at once her heart began to patter queerly. But, holy smoke!—the Yale spirit in…. “Ann Veronica,” he said.
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