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He sat by the table in his dressing-room with angry storm-swept countenance. He had been capturing loud plaudits with his rag-time, until intoxicated with success, he swept into a tornado of music by Moskowski. The applause died away; two ladies in the front row began chatting. The enraged artist jumped from the piano-stool, and shouting “Pigs!” raced from the platform. “I am given to understand by the best fashion-plates, Mrs. Wopp, that the garment you term an ‘underwaist’ is now designated a casserole.” “I want Howard Eliot,” she cried, “he can sing so lovely, an’ I want Miss Gordon, she’s so comfortin’.”.
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kez_ h (Kez_h)
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"Oh, Doris!" was all she found to say, as she stretched eager hands toward her.I tried logging in using my phone number and I
was supposed to get a verification code text,but didn't
get it. I clicked resend a couple time, tried the "call
me instead" option twice but didn't get a call
either. the trouble shooting had no info on if the call
me instead fails.There was
Patricia halted by the chair at a side table where her name card lay. Her eyes were fastened on Judith with a peculiarly penetrating gaze, and her firm grasp detained the arm that would have escaped.
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Conrad
CHAPTER II THE SATURDAY GANG “Why, I’d planned a big stock concern, like business men. We’ll build a railroad, telegraph line—that comes first, though; we’ll have gold and copper mines, and a wharf. And next we’ll launch the steamer we’ve been making.” She took the child in her comforting arms. “Don’t cry, little one! We shall find her, never fear.” “Your nose is out of joint, Edith! I’ve got a new sister.” But his eyes belied his blunt words..
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