Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary. And later they paddled in a boat above the mysterious deeps of the See, and peered down into the green-blues and the blue-greens together. The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. Finally she fell into reflection. You were only one room removed from the library, see. “Want to see my fangs?” She asked.
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