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"Johnny-boy," she said at last, "what is it that comes like a fog between you and me?" MacRae did not answer. "I make love to you quite openly," Betty went on. "And I don't seem to be the least bit ashamed of doing so. I'm not a silly kid. I'm nearly as old as you are, and I know quite well what I want which happens to be you. I love you, Silent John. The man is supposed to be the pursuer.
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