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CHAPTER XXVII. I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. "You think our sex has no feeling, I suppose, Sir," cried Mrs. 59 He was not present during the night the next morning, or the next, or the next. ’ ‘Had a certificate for it,’ argued Roding. Sepulchre's clock struck eight. Very slowly emerging out of a phase of stupefaction, these personal affairs and her personal problem resumed possession of her mind. He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head.
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