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🎮 “It always seems to me Christ’s birthday,” she said, “whenever a child is born.” Joan tried to enthuse; but the words came haltingly. She suggested to Joan a candle that some wind had suddenly blown out. The paint and powder had been obvious, but at least it had given her the mask of youth. She looked old and withered. The life seemed to have gone out of her.!

🏆 Joan started. She had been thinking about Phillips, wondering what she should say to him when they met. He was choosing his roses. They held their petals wrapped tight round them, trying to keep the cold from their brave hearts. In the warmth they would open out and be gay, until the end.!

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