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There was no rush. ‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently forgotten for the moment. Wherein she differed but little from her young sisters. Good heavens! She was discussing love-making. The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another. Her formerly brown hair was dyed a white shade of blonde. My death, probably. A hollow feeling opened up inside her, and she felt her heartbeat quicken. “Ass!” he went on, still warming.
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