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Courtlaw sat with folded arms. And even she was forced to admit to herself that this last resource of hers was a slender reed on which to lean. “But you must forgive me, John. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. “My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. They litter up the room.
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