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SHALL I TURN on the wireless, darling?" "Not on my account," said Mrs. Cathcart. "This book is quite interesting." "Is it the one I chose?" asked Delia. "Yes, darling. It was very clever of you to pick such a nice murder. The last one the girl recommended was so dry that I had to skip most of it." "The bother about detective stories is that they're not the least like life. People find a corpse and make no more fuss than if it was a dead rabbit," said Delia. "I know. I can't think how some of these writers get their tales printed." " I expect," said Delia, who was the most worldly of the Cathcarts, "that they have friends who are printers." "Or publishers," said the more highbrow Sheila. "But," said Mrs. Cathcart, "if any of you girls would like the wireless . . .?" Delia said, "You, Sheila?" "No, darling. It's only jazz. But perhaps Nancy . . .?"
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