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” She replied weakly. His pale and boyish waist was nearly as slim as her own. “You belong to me,” he said fiercely; “the marriage certificate is in my pocket. ” He caught her wrist and turned her face towards him. His demeanour then was sober enough to lend colour to that belief. She had never even brought a friend home in her time at the Becks, let alone been asked on dates.
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