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“Ssh!” said her mother, and then added, “A little natural feeling, dear. I felt—I felt living in a masked world. ” “Then she has never been my wife. " "Have it, and welcome," rejoined Figg. She was glad to join in the stream of hurrying homeward workers that was now welling out of a thousand places of employment, and to imitate their driven, preoccupied haste. "Excuse me," he said, plunging his fork into a fowl, and transferring it to his plate. I didn’t understand. He took his seat at the table, but leaned forward to address her. The sun was setting in spectacular multicolored streams beyond Whitefield Park. Elegant, a little scornful, she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him steadily in the eyes. When the twins had first come to live in the 208 house, they were thin and bony, their tiny mouths crying for food. "Call me Hoddy.
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