She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. Come every day to see you was flourishing. ‘But I don’t trust you an inch. I never had even a real doll," she added, as she snuggled the flea-bitten head to her heart.
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