“Oh yes,” said Miss Klegg; “I thought every one knew. She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set. And we are not traders looking at equivalents. He taught her about crowds, which men were the evilest, how to locate and dispose society’s garbage. They reached Wimbledon, and Ramage whipped out to hand Miss Stanley to the platform as though she had been a duchess, and she descended as though such attentions from middle-aged, but still gallant, merchants were a matter of course.
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