“It is part of the irony of life,” he said. He was a wonderful little creature with a perfect tiny face, mottled pink cheeks, and eyes brighter than May. “So what is John up to today?” Lucy asked with a weary smile. She could still remember herself at age five, staring knives and daggers at the men who came into the small yarn shop, under pretense of business but really just to leer. Shall I bring off anything?" he added, looking eagerly round.
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