She hated tricking Shari, whose joy for life was the only thing that made her naive enough to fall for laced iced tea or hot cocoa, depending on the season. ‘Eh bien?’ She thrust again, from the same place. “Useless—worse than useless. I've been hunting for this particular job for a thousand years!" She smiled a little sadly over this fine enthusiasm; for in her wisdom she had a clear perception where it would eventually end—in the veranda chair. When they were home, the pair headed for the Big Apple or the warmth of the Beck’s family table. To find the incentive! But how? Thither and yon the idea roved, seeking the way. "I say," retorted Edgeworth Bess, with a very unfeminine imprecation, "I shan't stand any more of that nonsense. I finally got my own set of house keys when I turned eleven. But be patient, I am your fast friend. “Anna!” he exclaimed hoarsely. The pole-chair caravan resumed its journey. Look at it, I say. The cloth nearly touches the floor.
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