" "I have no people—anybody who would care. Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that surveyed its operations. The emerald wings, slashed with scarlet and yellow, wheeling and swooping about her head, there among the wild plantain. She heard it open, but as she felt unable to look round in a careless manner she pretended not to hear it. She had expected a love story; and love was totally absent. And in that respect they stir up one another. ’ There was a chuckle in his voice. These little squares of coloured paper interested her mightily—hotel labels. ’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. "All right. She had never had a real doll.
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