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"Well, the living-room's done, anyway, and the willow set for the porch room!" sighed Leslie, leaning back with a fling of weariness. "Now to-morrow we'll do the dining-room." "To-morrow's Sunday, Les; the stores aren't open. Use your bean a little, child." "Sunday!" Leslie's beautiful face drew itself into a snarl of impatience, the first, really, that Julia Cloud had seen.
From it on Sunday morning, and often on Sunday evening, she read to the girls; and the girls loved this quiet hour more than almost any other thing that came into their lives. It was a diversion to come into the living-room's warmth and cheer directly after breakfast on Sunday morning, rather than file into chapel.
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