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While he thus vented his rage, the door again opened, and Quilt Arnold rushed into the room, bleeding, and half-dressed. . What had urged her to wrench loose and fly was the guarding instinct of the good woman. She felt that perhaps, in her desire to play an adequate part in the conversation, she had talked rather more freely than she ought to have done, and given him a wrong impression of herself. She sensed his acute frustration as he unzipped her raincoat while trying to kiss her. “How old are you?\" He looked at her engagingly. Spurling, squeezing Jack's arm, and pushing him towards the door, "and, don't come here again.
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