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The first act over, a troop of black-faced comedians occupied the stage. “Peter Stolway, what is a whale?” Mrs. Bennett was setting the table. She put down a pile of plates, and a new anxiety came into her careworn face. “A child? I told Mr. Patton I couldn’t take one.”.
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Conrad
Her anxiety somewhat allayed for the moment, Mrs. Mifsud roused herself for the entertainment of her guests. Mrs. Mifsud who had listened to this recital with polite interest, now excused herself on the plea of urgent duties in the kitchen. The work went on, each length at the first possible opportunity resuming its state of strict neutrality and refusing to be drawn into negotiations. “Yes, you shall be our dear little girl.” Mrs. Bennett took the forlorn child in her motherly arms and kissed her. “You’re tired and hungry, too, aren’t you?”.
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