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" He stuffed the printed chintz into her arms and smiled into her eyes. With a moment of inward shame he remembered his deportment towards Anna. “You see, daddy, I don’t think it IS preposterous. Pile it on! But if you can hear the voice of the mote, the speck, don't let her suffer for anything I've done. She had been working upon a ribbon of microtome sections of the developing salamander, and he came to see what she had made of them.
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