" "I must trouble you to hold the child, then, for a minute, while I run up to the garret, where I've hidden it for safety," said Mrs. There was a strip of old rose brocade in the making that set an ache in the girl's heart for the want of it. “It can’t make any difference to you, and there are not half a dozen people in Paris who could tell us apart. She did not wince.
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