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“Who, me? I scare you?” He asked. While I am talking about your friends, I feel—I think you ought to know how I look at it. So there is no escape. “He will find it difficult no doubt to alter his style of living,” she said. Hardened as he may be, that would touch him. That is what I must do. “Concern me!” she repeated fiercely. I wrote three letters yesterday and tore them up. "One'd think it rained fares, as well as blowed great guns. It warms me, and lights me, and fills my world with flowers.
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