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There was nothing on her face to hint of the misery that brimmed her heart this morning. "Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. "And the will?" he said, with forced calmness. " "You don't remember your mother?" "Oh, no; she died when I was very little. Stories … love stories: and to-morrow she would know the joy of reading them! It was almost unbelievable; it was too good to be true. S. "Nothing!" echoed the other, scornfully.
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