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Then Capes flittered to the hearthrug and poked the fire, stood up, and turned about. She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. These things are difficult. ’ Roding blinked. “I mean to go to that dance! I meant to reason with you, but you won’t reason. And, lastly, to the Seven Cities o' Refuge, in the New Mint. ‘You are jealous!’ ‘Yes,’ he agreed simply.
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