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She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound—the guttural Chinese tongue. ” “Dear me,” Anna laughed, “how unfortunate! What ought I to do? Should I be forgiven, do you think, if I were to go and hold that skein of wool for the old lady in the yellow cap?” “Don’t speak of her irreverently,” Brendon said, in an awed whisper. “Um, okay. Lucy tried not to make her cringe noticeable.
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