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Her anxiety somewhat allayed for the moment, Mrs. Mifsud roused herself for the entertainment of her guests. Loch Katrine lay beneath him rolled,’” “Never mind Mosey, Next Monday I’m goin’ to ask Mar to let me stay home and turn the nasty mouldy machine.”.
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Conrad
They came to the crest of the gorge. “We’ll have to slow up and zig-zag down carefully or they’ll hear us an’ get away,” Billy suggested. “No, my son.” The answer was more sincere than a few weeks before she could have believed possible. The coming of the child had taken from her life many hours of association with Billy, sweet as only mothers know; yet May Nell’s influence had softened and refined Billy, enlarged his vision. “It might have been to-day’s roast,” Edith protested, as she took the snarling Geewhillikins from his feast. “You see why Billy’s cats don’t come in the house, May Nell.” Edith worked very hard. She called her operetta “The Triumph of Flora.” The words were her own, written hurriedly and set to familiar though classic airs. Yet many of the daintiest, most tripping melodies she wrote herself. The sorrows of humanity had winged her brain and dipped her pen in harmonies, that she might assuage them..
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