"Good bye!" cried Jack, as if taking leave of his mistresses, "to-morrow, at the same time. Lucy sprinted to one side to avoid the crash and grabbed at Rhea’s solitary patch of yellow hair, which ripped out loosely in one decayed piece like strands of rotten corn silk. A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall. " "Never," replied Winifred.
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