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’ ‘Dunderhead. “Come, we must go home and have some luncheon. Already she had sent him twenty pounds, and never written to explain to him why it was she had not sent it back sharply directly he returned it. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. Wood. Wanted her out of the way because he had been afraid of her, afraid of himself! He, at fifty-four! Then into this void poured a flaming anger, a blind and unreasoning anger. “I couldn’t help it.
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