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Varvara Pavlovna took up a sheet of music, and half-screening her face with it, bent over towards Panshine, and said in a whisper, while she nibbled a biscuit, a quiet smile playing about her lips and her eyes, "Elle n'a pas inventé la poudre, la bonne dame." Varvara Pavlovna gave him a friendly look, and rose from her seat. At that moment Liza entered the room.
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