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He put the candle on a chair, nearly falling as he did so, then came towards her. He stood over her, his shirt, open at the neck, protuberating over his stomach, his short thick legs swaying. His red, unshaven face with the trembling lips was hateful to her. Suddenly he sat on the edge of her bed and put his hands out towards her. He caught her hair. "My little Maggie my little Maggie," he said.
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