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She was frightfully hungry. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. He turned his eyes and stared at Miss Garvice like one who wakes from a reverie, and then got up and strolled down the laboratory toward his refuge, the preparation-room. . “I know nothing about your wife. All the rest of his existence was subordinate to this pursuit; he lived for it, worked for it, kept himself in training for it. In the heart of the jungle the dog had his private muck baths.
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