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oosened, dozed in the chair next to the bed Hastily I set about making a
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a good imitation.
Cyrus, who must have been listening outside the door, entered when I did. Dr. Wallingford waved us back. Leaning over the bed, he said, "Do you know who you are?"
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"Please, Professor," Wallingford exclaimed. "Your language! There is a lady present."
Emerson's eyes swept the room in a slow survey and came to rest on me where I stood with hands clasped to my breast in order to still the telltale flutter of the ruffles that betrayed my wildly beating
heart. "If she doesn't care for my language she can leave the ryilai:
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