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Butterflys Sunflower shirt

The next day was broiling, almost the last, certainly the warmest, of the summer. As my train emerged from the Butterflys Sunflower shirt tunnel into sunlight, only the hot whistles of the National Biscuit Company broke the simmering hush at noon. The straw seats of the car hovered on the edge of combustion; the woman next to me perspired delicately for a while into her white shirtwaist,


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