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The young fellow was almost as odd in his way as the girl was in hers. October arrived; and in another week the court would be sitting at the Old Bailey. “I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already. It’s a sort of blacklegging to want to have a life of one’s own. She entered the room in the shadows. She had asked to borrow his pencil out of dire necessity. I’m not a bit afraid of anything—scandal, difficulty, struggle. The Victorians over-did it a little, I admit. So long. But the Yale spirit!" Ah Cum laughed. She put back her hood in a determined way.
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