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Her pat answer to all inquiries was, “I let my sister Shari make me over,” while she kept from staring at her own reflection in the shiny shoes past her bare knees. ” “What ball?” The question was rhetorical. A dreamy sense of content crept over him. ‘Where did you get that, miss?’ ‘It is the sword of monsieur le major. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. Their faces were masks of abject horror, sunken and shriveled, their cheekbones protruding.
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