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He now understood her interest in Taber, as he called himself: habit, a twice-told tale. Neither their mother nor Sebastian noticed, as certain members of the house had taken to avoiding each other. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. “We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other.
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