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“Showtime!” Martin cried. He pulled on his pants, his yellow shirt with the ridiculous horse logo, his brown socks, and shoes. “I think,” he said, “that you have found the real home of the lotus-eaters. ‘And me?’ ‘Oh, you’re mad because you wish to blow off my head. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1. “So you still think of me as husband, even though we have long since tired of each other. ” Chapter XXV THE STEEL EDGE OF THE TRUTH The manservant, with his plain black clothes and black tie, had entered the room with a deferential little gesture.
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