" "How do you manage that, Mr. Wood's," was the reply. The signs of tears had all gone, but some subtle change seemed to have stolen into her face. When I think of those ateliers of ours, the art jargon, the decadents with their flamboyant talk I long for a twoedged sword and a minute of Divinity. She allowed herself to be ejected, therefore, and retired to the parlour after cleansing the blood from her hands and her own slight wound in the kitchen.
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