’ He looked the girl up and down. Or perhaps my father once. On a small shelf near the foot of the bed stood a couple of empty phials, a cracked ewer and basin, a brown jug without a handle, a small tin coffee-pot without a spout, a saucer of rouge, a fragment of looking-glass, and a flask, labelled "Rosa Solis. She knew that to expect more now was like anticipating a gold-mine in the garden.
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