’ She shuddered, throwing her hands over her face. She was looking anxiously at the entrance to the restaurant. "Then, of course, you must know. I am no use for a clerk, because I do not understand shorthand. Do you indeed remember? The smell of decay and cheap methylated spirit!. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. “I don’t think you see,” she replied, with tears on her cheeks, and her brows knitting, “how it shames and, ah!—disgraces me—AH TISHU!” She put down the tray with a concussion on her toilet-table.
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