It was the same Bios whose nature and drift and ways and methods and aspects engaged them all. "Why do you ask?" rejoined the other haughtily. Her head felt absurdly like one of those noddling manikins in the Hong-Kong curio-shops. "No, no, let him alone," interposed Wood. He had died before they married, and when her brother became a widower she had come to his assistance and taken over much of the care of his youngest daughter. She came to spend hours with the bastard children that the women brought, dressing and feeding the tiny ones, inventing games for the older ones. " "There's but one way of clearing it, your worship," said the Master, archly. Of course, I don't believe she's what you would call flush.
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