Flattened flowers aren’t for the likes of us. "What do you mean?" cried Winifred in alarm. "A neighbour offered me a drive to Paddington; and, as I haven't heard of my son for some time, I couldn't resist the temptation of stepping on to inquire after him, and to thank you for your great goodness to us both, I've brought a little garden-stuff and a few new-laid eggs for you, Ma'am," she added turning to Mrs. ’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness.
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