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’ ‘Yes, but how are you going to find her?’ ‘I will ask—’ She broke off. “Poor Lucy!” Cathy exclaimed as she rushed in the door, umbrella sheathed. She was making it up. Sir John felt that after all forty-five was not so very old. Martin said “Hi” to her in the halls every day now, a sure sign of trouble. Everything seemed designed to unhinge the mind and make the cat wretched.
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