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A person of somewhat artificial graces and mannerisms, she was for once in her life perfectly natural. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. "But be prudent, my angel. "They shall not harm you, my love!" she exclaimed. “Sure, I guess so. Small, but eminently serviceable. ‘I do not need for you to tell me this. Horrible memories of things seen beneath the microscope of the baser forms of life crawled across her mind and set her shuddering with imagined irritations.
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