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Sally Scott of the Waves

User: user13
Sally Scott of the Waves

It was mid-afternoon of a cloudy day in early autumn. Sally Scott glided

to the one wide window in her room and pulled down the shade. Then, with

movements that somehow suggested deep secrecy, she took an oblong, black

box, not unlike an overnight bag, from the closet. After placing this

with some care on her study table, she pressed a button, and caught the

broad side of the box, that, falling away, revealed a neat row of

buttons and switches.

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