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It was a curiosity which Fulkerson himself shared, at least concerning Dryfoos. "I don't know what the old man's going to do," he said to March the day after the Marches had talked their future over. "Said anything to you yet?"
"No, not a word."
"You're anxious, I suppose, same as I am. Fact is," said Fulkerson, blushing a little, "I can't as
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