There could not, he decided, possibly be two girls so much alike. "You know what I mean," said the trader, gravely. A chill rain thrummed against the sides of John’s car, having slowed from deluge to steady patter, the snow was 158 dissolved where it lay. He caught the smirk. "Could you get any of the music last night?" "Yes. We have both tried hard to develop it—you and I —and we have failed.
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