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Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano. “I wonder!” said Miss Stanley. "My limbs feel so light, now that my irons are removed," he observed with a smile, "that I am half inclined to dance. Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. Stop! we must shut the door, or they'll catch us. “We’re in for it. Manning? I suppose there’s a sort of place like a ticket-office.

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