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Unable to contain himself longer, although he realized the vast futility of it all, Massington seized her in his arms and buried her lovely eyes and hair in the storm of a thousand kisses.
“You love me, Lolo—tell me you love me!” he choked.
“No! no!” she cried, struggling from his clasp with an adorable coquetry. “No, it must not be.”
Massington, for the moment, found himself unable to speak. Then, “Why?” he asked simply, softly.
“Because,” the girl replied, with a cunning moué—“because
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In the finest homes and at the best-appointed tables CAMPBELL’S TOMATO SOUP is recognized as a dinner course of faultless quality and suited to the most important occasions.
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I don’t yet know my own mind,” she finished.