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With that and my eyebrows blackend, I would not have known myself, had I not been certain it was I and no other. I then made my way down the Back Stairs. Ah me, Dear Dairy, was that but a few hours ago? Is it but a short time since Mr. Beresford was sitting at my feet, thinking me a DEBUTANTE, and staring soulfully into my very heart?
"Barbara, I wonder if you ever think whither you are tending." I ate a sausage. What, Dear Dairy, was there to say? "To disobey!" she went on. "To force yourself on the atention of Mr. Beresford, in a borowed dress, with your eyelashes blackend and your face painted "
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