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Upstairs in the ugly room the Frau sat sewing, a black shawl round her shoulders, her feet encased in red woollen slippers. The girl put the milk on a table by her, then stood, polishing a spoon on her apron. "Nothing else?" "Na," said the Frau, heaving up in her chair. "Where's my man?" "He's playing cards over at Snipold's. Do you want him?" "Dear heaven, leave him alone. I'm nothing.
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