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Updated: June 25, 2025
"Can everyone kiss like you?" she whispered shyly, with a tender gleam in her eyes. "Maybe. I don't know." "No, no there's no one in the world like you. None that can talk like you, or kiss like you. Do you know what I always think always look at, when you kiss me?" "No tell me, tell me!" he cried eagerly. "No I don't think I can." "Something you can't tell me, Daisy-flower?
She preferred to live in rooms which, by comparison, were like dungeons; for the owners had never put Love into them, and had never thought of Self-Denial in connection with them. There, Daisy-flower, I have done. It seems a pity that the little girl should have been so selfish, does it not?" "But how does the story end, Mr. Arthur? You have really only just begun."
You know, Daisy, what we came up to London for why, of course you know why we left all our dear friends, and are living in about the very dullest part of London of course you know?" "Was it?" said Daisy, looking dubious; "was it I never could quite make out because Primrose did not like Mrs. Ellsworthy?" "Oh, you silly, silly little thing! What a dreadful thing to get into your head, Daisy-flower!
Now, Jasmine on with the coals, and let us have a merry blaze while I see to the supper porridge for you and me, and a nice fresh egg and a cup of warm milk for the Daisy-flower." "The Pink must have some milk too," said Daisy, as she tumbled lazily out of her soft nest of cushions; "the Pink isn't half as fat as she used to be I can feel all the bones down her spine I know she wants cream.
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