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Is that the kind of hat they're why, its a winter one, isn't it? Already! Dear me, I've just got used to the angle of my summer one. You must telephone father." Miz' Merz damply calicoed, rose from a corner and came forward, wiping a moist and parboiled hand on her skirt. "Ha' do, Pinky? Ain't forgot your old friends, have you?" "It's Mrs. Merz!"
The imperturbability of the mountains hung upon him like a suit of armour. The woman was calicoed, angled, snuff-brushed, and weary with unknown desires. Through it all gleamed a faint protest of cheated youth unconscious of its loss. The Justice of the Peace slipped his feet into his shoes, for the sake of dignity, and moved to let them enter.
Is that the kind of hat they're why, it's a winter one, isn't it? Already! Dear me, I've just got used to the angle of my summer one. You must telephone father." Miz' Merz, damply calicoed, rose from a corner and came forward, wiping a moist and parboiled hand on her skirt. "Ha' do, Pinky. Ain't forgot your old friends, have you?" "It's Mrs. Merz!"
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