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I was always told my mother died the day I was born. We must never let your father know we went. While she worked, Melusine worried over the problem of getting Jack home. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. Shrinking involuntarily back into the farthest corner of the seat, Jack buried his face in his hands. " "I'll excuse it nevertheless," returned the little damsel, affectionately extending her hand to him.
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