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“So you’d best open your coffers. Sebastian rose from the tomb. Prudence attacked her chicken wing. She's headed for America. She addressed him in a tone of puzzlement. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. “I wanted to go to an art-student ball of which he disapproved. And, yet, I don't know. “Please stop, cabman,” she ordered.
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