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\" She waved. Then he looked across at Mrs Sindlesham. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. You have the gift of words, but you haven't started to create yet. ” “Oh. But if he's in bed, how the devil is he going with me, supposing I decide to hire him? The mudhook comes up to-morrow night. That's the way she strikes me. I'm ready to bear it all.
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