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Her green eyes shone like emeralds when she curled boa-fashion about her mistress's white neck and looked down at the Poms. Lady O'Gara had come out on the steps to meet Eileen and had kissed her on each cold satin cheek, making a tender fuss about removing her wraps. Her coldnesses were easily dispelled. "Come right in, darling, and have some tea," she said fondly. "Why, you are perished!
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