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Her old nurse’s hands returned the pressure. " "Have you told him so?" she inquired, reproachfully. Wood, I desire you'll put on your best things, and join us as soon as possible. She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork. Under her feet lay intricate mosaics, and each warm hall was festooned in tapestries. They got to go home and eat Campbell’s Chicken Soup. She dropped the manuscripts and swiftly brought the coat to him, noting that a button hung loose. The little streaks upon the germinating area of an egg, the nervous movements of an impatient horse, the trick of a calculating boy, the senses of a fish, the fungus at the root of a garden flower, and the slime upon a sea-wet rock—ten thousand such things bear their witness and are illuminated. “I don’t mean simply intensity of sensation.

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