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Will you marry me?” Anna looked at him in blank amazement. “Holy shit!” Giggling and snickering was amplified by asbestos tiles and reverberated by metal desks. Everything in this world changed—except human folly. “I’ve gotta go. ’ ‘And now we know also who is the prétendant, Mademoiselle Charvill. She is like some character out of Phra the Phoenician: she's been buried for thirty years and just been excavated. Love is one thing and friendship quite another. This key," he added, taking it from the boy, "was purloined from me by your father, Jack.
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