“Flesh and flowers are all alike to me. You remember that you saw us at the Savoy a few evenings ago?” “Yes. That is what my mother used to call me. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. “Really, Vee, you seem to have advertised our relations pretty generally!” “They—they knew, of course. ‘Either you tell me why you want the wretched animal, or it stays here.
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