Some automaton within her produced in a quite unfamiliar voice the remark, “They’re playing football. Petals!. Jolly nose! the bright rubies that garnish thy tip Are dug from the mines of canary; And to keep up their lustre I moisten my lip With hogsheads of claret and sherry. Lucy thought of a song that she had not been able to get out of her head since the Fifties.
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