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Thank goodness, the tea!
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I'm beginning to feel quite ill with all this bonhomie.
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Oh, do let's have tea in the garden, Mother.
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It's too beautiful a day in every way not to share it with the flowers.
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Well, I love to garden. Mother disapproves,
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but I can't help myself. I love flowers shockingly.
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That's why you have the hands of a greengrocer.
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I do not!
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Thank heavens Norman sometimes deigns to read to me.
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If I had to rely on you for companionship,
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I should expire of loneliness.
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My mother's taste in books, Miss Potter, and, I'm afraid,