” “I thought I explained—” “I don’t think you can have heard me,” said her father; “I have told you to come home. “Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. He read but little, and that chiefly healthy light fiction with chromatic titles, The Red Sword, The Black Helmet, The Purple Robe, also in order “to distract his mind. I hate children. ‘You wish to die?’ ‘Not in the least.
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