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 "Well, well, what is it?"

"What's a word for a lovely—a lovely—you know what I mean—and all of a sudden —only you don't because—what is the word, Teddy?"

"Condensedmilk," said Teddy.

"I don't fink it is," said Miss Waterlow.

"As near as you can get nowadays."

Miss Waterlow sighed. She never seemed to get very near.

"Perhaps I shall never tell them," said Miss Waterlow sadly "Perhaps they don't have the word."

"Perhaps they don't," said Teddy. "It's a funny thing about them," he went on, waking up slightly, "what a few words they have got. Take 'condensedmilk' as an example. It does, but it isn't really, if you see what I mean. That's why I never talk to 'em now. They don't get any richness