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My family are a great anxiety to me. Sometimes when Saunders is doing my hair — it’s been up for ages — nearly six months — I look in the glass, and wonder why it’s not grey — the hair, I mean. There is my brother Bob, for instance. He’s much better, now, of course, for I have worked very hard on him; but when he first went to Oxford he was dreadful. He required the very firmest treatment on my part. And even father, when my eye is not on him… There was that business of the right-of-way for example. It happened the summer before I put my hair up. I had been away for a visit to Aunt Flora. She is one of my muddling aunts, not nearly so nice as Aunt Edith, but, on the Other hand, not perfectly awful like Aunt Elizabeth. I was glad to get back

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