She could feel his breath on her skin, every hair on her arms and neck raised in response. “You love some one else?” he repeated. She thought of her costume in some detail and with considerable satisfaction, and particularly of a very jolly property dagger with large glass jewels in the handle, that reposed in a drawer in her room. She was poor. I never let her read stories, or have pets, dolls. "Your sister is dead," said he, in a deep whisper.
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