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    e in all London if no one ever behel
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    on their lips, Margaret Massarene
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    and perfection. No false note jarred on its harmonies
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    s hand. The square hall had ancient Italian tapestries
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    balustrade leaned, lovely as adolescence
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    and perfection. No false note jarred on its harmonies
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    modern perfection of rose-shaded electricity
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    It was four o’clock on a misty
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    the most beautiful dwelling-house
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    s hand. The square hall had ancient Italian tapestries
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    and dark afternoon of the month of March i
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    unsold and unlet for a very long peri
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    proportions and size for the city in which they
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    was much more than a millionaire
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