Don’t touch the handle, Annabel! Curse the thing, you’ve jammed it now. But after a time I learned the ways of the parrakeets, and they would come down to me like doves in the stories. Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. I did not want anything made smooth and easy for me. Her eyes where glassy and shining.
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