The small Diedermayer clan was a captive audience. It is a matter of degree. “Limp,” he answered. Here, turnkey. A moment before, the surface of the stream was black as ink. And in reality even that magic garden-close resolves itself into a villa at Morningside Park and my father being more and more cross and overbearing at meals—and a general feeling of insecurity and futility. “Is this hansom for me?” she said. "My portrait!" echoed Jack.
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