She patted John's head with her palm, its surface appealingly fuzzy. “I don’t think you see,” she replied, with tears on her cheeks, and her brows knitting, “how it shames and, ah!—disgraces me—AH TISHU!” She put down the tray with a concussion on her toilet-table. “Perhaps,” he said, “I have been to blame. She opened the door with a neon colored key.
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