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" "Piano-player? Do you mean someone who plays for you?" "No, no; one of those mechanical things you play with your feet. When Sheila was in a bad mood, she berated her new foster daughter for streaks on the windows, dust on the figurines, for crooked bed sheet corners, and floors that had not been waxed properly. “Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. Wood. But he had now lost the precise spot; and thinking he had examined the drain, turned his attention to another quarter. There was nothing in the pockets of the coat. “Are you aware, Ann Veronica, you nearly throttled that gentleman?” Then she reviled her own foolish way of putting it. A buxom piece, who looked, Gerald decided, as if she would be more at home in an amorous engagement in a hayloft than sitting demurely in a ballroom. She sat on the edge of the bed overwhelmed, the roses cradled in her arms.
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