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He shook her and she threatened to roll off the chair on to a divan. Mr. Budlong straightened her out and gazed at her in hopeless pity. He stared at the chaos of bundles. He seized the pack of cards from his wife's chubby fingers and ran here and there jabbing pasteboards into bundles, regardless. That is how Myra Eppley acquired an ash tray lined with cigar bands, and why old Mr.
She did not know what the color of her wall paper would be in New York. She did not know that she would ever have wall paper in New York. She only knew that Myra Eppley, too, was calling her "my dear." Myra Eppley also was going to give her a Christmas present. And would have to be given one. Mrs.
I remember the hour so exactly because I've been making it a rule to begin work on your Christmas present every morning at Oh, but I didn't inTend to let you know. No, dearie, I won't tell you what it is. But I can't help believing it's Just what you'll need in New York." Myra Eppley, with whom Mrs.
Budlong came into the reputation of her money Myra Eppley had the effrontery to call up on the telephone and say: "Would you mind telling me, my dear, the shade of wall paper you're going to have in your New York parlor, because I'm making you the daintiest little well, no matter, but will you tell me?" Poor Mrs. Budlong almost swooned from the telephone.
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