"Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. “In the end,” it seemed to be thinking, “they embalmed me with the utmost respect—sound spices chosen to endure—the best! I took my world as I found it. ” “What did your aunt say?” “She didn’t even kiss me. ” She glanced out of the window, and the distant trees were a froth of hard spring green and almond blossom.
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