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doc#147 | turn. It was only a fifteen-minute flight, | but | before it was through Greg felt himself |
doc#147 | panel. He saw them, specks against the gray, | but | closing fast. They were headed straight |
doc#148 | to dwell too much on her physical aspects | but | I am an artist, accustomed to studying |
doc#148 | an Uncle related to me only by marriage, | but | why she had married a man twice her age |
doc#148 | clicks. Something clicked in this instance, | but | I treated her circumspectly and I felt |
doc#148 | dismissed these feelings as wishful thinking | but | I could not get it out of my head that |
doc#148 | It is nothing you can put your fingers on | but | the air suddenly fills with a high charge |
doc#148 | I do not know. I myself was fond of him | but | what a young woman half his age saw in |
doc#148 | class. I don't even remember who wrote it | but | it was one of those 15th or 16th century |
doc#148 | far enough away from the rendezvous corner | but | near enough to keep the corner in clear |