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“I was sick of the make-believe. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. For she knew that men married to get something. “Do you know,” she confessed, “I never thought of that?” He looked at her as though doubting even now whether she could possibly be in earnest. She whispered, “Another car is coming,” as lights approached their car. ” He said admiringly. ” “Why on earth—? A man ought to be labelled.
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