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She tried to imagine the collective effect of the Fadden Ball; she had never seen a fancy-dress gathering in her life. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. “Come,” he said, “this is capital, capital. The elements were wrathful as their passions. Girls who had envied her former position as John’s amour passed no opportunity to utter cryptic remarks as she sat in Study Hall, walked down hallways, or rinsed her hands in the bathroom.
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