Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. She was lovely, painted like the porcelain doll he had always wanted her to be. "I thought I heard a noise. “You’re not interested in politics?” he asked, almost with a note of protest.
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