It’s a pure joy of giving—giving to YOU. " On a shelf was placed a row of paint-jars; the contents of which had been daubed in rainbow streaks upon the adjacent closet and window sill. ‘The man’s gone,’ her old nurse told her, when she had recovered a little. “I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. The girls had such freedom, a wonderful chance afforded to them to go out in the wide world before making babies, it was nothing like the world she had come of age in.
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