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E. 27 Her beloved mother Marina was the first in the house to catch it, the first to die. " "Poh! poh!" rejoined Ireton; "it was mere idle boasting. "Come out!" roared Quilt, looking into the aperture. “It seems so unfair,” she said, “to take all you offer me and give so little in return. Romance! The romance of passing faces, of wires that carried voices and words to the far ends of the world, of tremendous mechanisms that propelled ships and trains! And, oh the beautiful books! She swiftly knelt upon the floor and once more gathered the books to her heart. ‘Who’s this, then? Not soldiers again.
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