" "Piano-player? Do you mean someone who plays for you?" "No, no; one of those mechanical things you play with your feet. Monsieur could rely upon his special attention, and for the cooking—well, he had his customers, who came from their homes to him year after year. It was horrible. I've been hunting for this particular job for a thousand years!" She smiled a little sadly over this fine enthusiasm; for in her wisdom she had a clear perception where it would eventually end—in the veranda chair.
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