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Saki

πŸ“” The Toys of Peace

1919
She is only coming to gloat over my bedraggled and flowerless borders and to sing the praises of her own detestably over-cultivated garden. I'm sick of being told that it's the envy of the neighbourhood; it's like everything else that belongs to herβ€”her car, her dinner-parties, even her headaches, they are all superlative; no one else ever had anything like them.
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The Toys of Peace
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