” She shrugged her shoulders slightly. On some insane score she fancied she had to state her case in verse. “My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. "One of you fly to the market," returned Jonathan; "another to the river; a third to the New Mint. When Sheila was in a bad mood, she berated her new foster daughter for streaks on the windows, dust on the figurines, for crooked bed sheet corners, and floors that had not been waxed properly.
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