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We must wash out those stains up stairs, and burn the cloth. This Joan would hold them for a little. “And, after all, I am just one common person!” She watched the throb of the arteries in the stem of her neck, and put her hand at last gently and almost timidly to where her heart beat beneath her breast. “How CAN I tell him?” whispered Miss Stanley. It made her laugh, which in turn made him laugh. He took her hand and looked into her eyes and spoke, divided against himself, in a voice that was forced and insincere. But after that it was easy.
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