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His hand flew across the paper. “Are we interrupting anything?” “No!” Martin jumped slightly. Below was an uninspiring street, a thoroughfare of boarding-houses and apartments. "My limbs feel so light, now that my irons are removed," he observed with a smile, "that I am half inclined to dance. I cannot be intimate—’ stressing the word with a deep look ‘— with one I feel to be a stranger.
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