“It’s THE Society!” said Miss Miniver. 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. “You remind me of a little blue stone I had once. I desire, Sir, you'll recollect yourself. Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano. She had tried to shift the subject of conversation away from herself and was even managing successfully until Chen the father addressed her.
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