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She leaned back in the cab with half-closed eyes. The Ragged Edge. You can purchase the information from me whenever you're so disposed. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. “And we will sail that splendor wide, From day to day together, From isle to isle of happiness Through year’s of God’s own weather. But send me word. Please sit down, Miss —dear me, I haven’t asked you your name yet. In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter.
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