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"The very nicest thing of all." And he added, in his half-pedantic, half-pleasing way, "I shall be as wax in your hands, mamma." She smiled. "Very well, darling. You shall be." And she pressed him lovingly, as though she would mould him into something beautiful. For the next few days great preparations were in the air. She went to see his father's sister, the gifted and vivacious Aunt Emily.
"Would it not just be possible," he said, in his old half-pedantic, half-ironic intonation, "to find a locality less exposed to the roar of traffic and the rude jostling of pedestrians and the inclemency of the elements, in which we can enjoy the amenities of a little refined conversation?" It was like a breath from the past. Doggie smiled. "Which way are you going?"
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