I am grateful, indeed I am. With the last glimmer of decency he had sent the daughter to his sister. She read beautifully because the fixed form of the poem signified nothing. “It is an annoyance, my friend,” she said, “not a tragedy. Then I assumed a rather portentous manner to prepare him. While he was stirring his tea, she ran and fetched the comb. ” “I say,” she reflected, “you ARE rather the master, you know.
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