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So she built a shrine. “Non. Bullding,” she declared. Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. "You see?" Ruth said. '" "Let me see," cried Jack, snatching the paper, and eagerly perusing the advertisement. It is a very small affair, after all, and you can pay me back if you will. I will tell you our plans on the way to the station.
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