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All was darkness, horror, confusion, ruin. She looked from Anna, who was far too nice-looking to be travelling about alone, to that reassuring pile of luggage, and wrinkled her brows thoughtfully. They had got all this down already—they heard the substance of it now for the fourteenth time. I am carrying back a hundred new books and forty new records for the piano-player. She turned away from the doorway of the silk loom to observe. I can't run in these heavy fetters.
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