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"Well, hurry and tell me then," said the old lady. "I’m a great believer in bein’ told good news as soon as possible. What is it?" "It’s that I’m not a maid," said the pretty widow. "Not—a—" cried Aunt Mary blankly. "I’m a widow!" said Janice. "I’m Burnett’s sister." "Wh—a—at!" cried Aunt Mary. "I didn’t jus’ catch that."
However, there’s no denying your presence, and what can’t be denied must be supplied, so what will you have?" "Everything." Mitchell dived into the edibles generally and Burnett’s void was provided with fulfillment. "We were talking about Aunt Mary," Clover said presently. "We were saying that neither you nor she would be up to a coach or down to a picnic for one while."
Candelabra, ice-pails, etc. Aunt Mary had a parrot in a gilt tower, and all the men had white mice in houses shaped like hat-boxes. Mitchell’s seat was flanked with wine coolers, and Burnett’s, too. There was all that they could desire to eat and drink and more. The feast began, and it was grand and glorious.
There were double parlors above stairs in the domicile which Burnett’s sister had taken until July, and they were furnished in the most correct and trying mode of Louis XIV. The chairs were gilt and very uncomfortable. The ornaments were all straight up and down and made in such shapes that there was no place to flick off cigarette ashes anywhere.
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