“We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. "Mercy on us! what have I said!" cried the attendant, greatly alarmed by the agitation of her mistress; "do sit down, your ladyship, while I run for the ratifia and rosa solis. He occupied one of the smaller houses near the station. He knocked on the doorframe. It's a sorry world," he went on. .
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