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    It was a palace fit for a Queen of Loves;
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    a coarse or common chord. The household were not
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    and perfection. No false note jarred on its harmonies
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    The rest of the mansion was in the same proportions
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    balustrade leaned, lovely as adolescence
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    heathen Chinee, and one of the richest and
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    his dreams of Cleopatra. And it belonged actually
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    his dreams of Cleopatra. And it belonged actually
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    Karinthia, the silver lamps which hung above these stairs
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