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    of polished and disdainful servants if there were n
    0:15
    e in all London if no one ever behel
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    the most beautiful dwelling-house
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    and then beating a nervous tattoo
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    on her knee, the fingers now
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    loose clasp of her fat hands folde
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    on their lips, Margaret Massarene
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    yet kept the roses on their cheeks and the laugh
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    formed the ceiling; and yet, amidst these
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    shepherds and shepherdesses made
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