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The Seraph shot an imploring glance at Angel. "I fink," he hedged, "it's some of the gwavy fwom dinner left over." Mrs. Handsomebody turned to Angel and me. "Stand up," she commanded, sternly, "and we shall sift this matter to the root." "Yes," admitted Angel, nonchalantly. "It was licorice root made into a drink." "Licorice root," repeated our governess, in a tone of disgust.
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