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PART TWO Mathematics of Business and Management
Exercise 6.1
7. 355.00
0.83L
355.00
L
0.83
List $426.00
8. 63.31 0.65L
63.31
L
0.65
List $97.40
(b)
Single rate 1 (0.6)(0.8)(0.97) 1 0.5173 0.4826 48.27%
14. (a)
Single rate 1 (0.83)(0.925) 1 0.77083 0.22916 22.92%
(b)
Single rate 1 (0.75)(0.916)(0.98) 1 0.67375 0.32625 32.63%
16. (a)
Net (0.83)(0.9)(0.92)(174.00) $120.06
(c)
Single rate 1 (0.83)(0.9)(0.92) 1 0.69 31%
18. (a)
Net (0.816)(0.908)(0.97)(1293.44) $931.27
(c)
Single rate 1 (0.816)(0.908)(0.97) 1 0.719991 0.280009 28.00%
Exercise 6.2
1. (a) May 23
(b) (2499.00)(0.98) $2449.02
2. (a) July 1
(b) (6200.00)(0.98) $6076.00
6.
Exercise 6.3
1. Cost = $4.00
S CEP
C 1.1C 1.3C
3.4C
(3.4)(4.00)
$13.60
Selling price is $13.60 per pizza.
2. Cost = $25.00; Selling price = $50.00
S C 30% of S P
S C 0.3S P
50 25 0.3(50) P
P 50 25 15
$10.00
Profit should be $10.00 per sale.
3. S $14.10
S C 260% of C 110% of C
S C 2.6C 1.1C
14.10 4.7C
C $3.00
Cost of buying is $3.00 per piece.
4. Cost 25(0.6)(0.90)(0.96) $12.96
S C E P C 0.35C 0.15C 1.5C 1.5(12.96) $19.44
5. Cost 66 % (96.00)
3
$64.00
S C 32% of C 27.5% of C
C 0.32C 0.275C
1.595C
(1.595)(64.00)
$102.08
Selling price should be $102.08
3.42
(c) Markup based on selling price 0.130435 13.04%
26.22
9. (a) 18% of selling price = 6.57
0.18 S 6.57
S 36.50
Selling price is $36.50
6.57
(c) Markup based on cost 0.219512 21.95%
29.93
10. (a) S CM
S C 0.4C 1.4C
382.20 1.4C
382.20
C 273
1.4
Cost is $273
Exercise 6.4
Exercise 6.5
1. (a) C 240(0.45)(0.75) $81
S C M C 2.3C 3.3C 3.3(81) 267.30
The regular selling price is $267.30
(b) Sale price 0.60(267.30) $160.38
2. (a)
Cost (0.6)(0.8)(0.95)(420.00) $212.80
S Cost Markup
S 212.80 0.60S
0.40S 212.80
S $532.00
Sale price 532.00 0.45(532.00)
532.00 239.40
$292.60
(b) Markup realized 292.60 212.80 $79.80
79.80
Rate of markup realized based on cost 0.375 37.5%
212.80
9. (a)
Cost (0.6)(0.8)(0.9)(75.00) $36.00
Regular selling price C 75% of C 25% of C
2C
2(36.00)
$72.00
Regular selling price is $72.00
(b) Overhead 0.75(36.00) $27.00
Acceptable loss (0.3)(27.00) 9.00
Sale price Total cost Loss 36.00 27.00 9.00 $54.00
(c) Maximum rate of markdown
72.00 54.00
0.25 25%
72.00
10. Sale price Cost Markup
Sale price C 30% of Sale price
Sale price 36.75 0.3 Sale price
0.7 Sale price 36.75
Sale price $52.50
Regular selling price Discount S
R 25% of R S
0.75R 52.50
R $70.00
The regular selling price should be $70.00
11. Regular selling price = C E P
S 36.40 24% of S 20% of S
S 36.40 0.44S
0.56S 36.40
S $65.00
Sale price 65(1 0.15) 65(0.85) $55.25
Total cost 36.40 24% of 65.00 36.40 15.60 $52.00
Profit 55.25 52.00 $3.25
Operating profit of $3.25
1. Net revenue for fourth quarter 2014 = 115.6% of net revenue for fourth quarter 2013
Net revenue for fourth quarter 2014 = 1.156 × $521.0 million = $602.3 million
2. Direct-to-customer revenue = $114.5 million/$602.3 million = 0.190105 = 19.01% of total
revenue for the fourth quarter 2014
3. Rate of Discount = Amount of Discount/List Price
Women’s Wunder Under Pant, Rate of Discount = (88 – 69)/88 × 100 = 0.215909 × 100 =
21.59%
Women’s Get Started Jacket, Rate of Discount = (118 – 49)/118 × 100 = 0.58474 × 100 =
58.47%
Men’s Cardio SS Tech Top, Rate of Discount = (58 – 24)/58 × 100 = 0.586207 × 100 = 58.62%
Men’s Performance Jacket, Rate of Discount = (88 – 44)/88 × 100 = 0.5 × 100 = 50.00%
Overhead Overhead
E = 30% of regular selling price E = 30% of regular selling price
E = 0.30 (88.00) E = 0.30 (88.00)
E = $26.40 E = $26.40
Profit Profit
E+P=M E+P=M
26.40 + P = 52.00 26.40 + P = 33.00
P = $25.60 P = $6.60
Review Exercise
1. (a) Net price (0.75)(0.8)(0.95)(56.00) $31.92
10.
312 — — $ 923.00
Remittance $2520.67
11.
Net invoice (0.66)(0.875)(8400.00) $4900.00
Last day for discount is July 11:
allow 3%
(a) Pay (0.97)(2000.00) $1940.00
23. (a)
Cost (0.6)(0.916)(1080.00) $660.00
S
C 0.18S 0.153S
S
C 0.3S
660.00
0.6S
S $990.00
New regular sellng price Discount S
N 0.25 N 990.00
0.75 N 990.00
N $1320.00
Sale price 0.625(1320.00) $825.00
Total cost 660.00 0.18(990.00)
660.00 178.20 $838.20
Profit 825.00 838.20 $13.20
Operating loss of $13.20
(b) Markup realized 825.00 660.00 $165.00
165.00
Rate of markup realized based on cost 0.25 25%
660.00
24.
Net price (0.6)(0.85)(1860.00) $1054.00
Reduction required 1054.00 922.25 $131.75
131.75
Additional discount 0.125 12.5%
1054.00
25. (a)
Cost (0.6)(0.8316)(0.9)(180.00) $80.84
S C 0.45S 0.2125S
S 80.84 0.6625S
0.3375S 80.84
S $239.53
Clare.
Playing about.
Dean.
Your mother and I thought we’d like a little stroll before going
home.
Bill.
Good idea....
(The Dean fixes his monocle, and,
slightly puzzled, scrutinises
them each in turn.)
Mrs. O’Farrel.
What’s the matter with you both?
Mrs. O’Farrel.
Have you been quarrelling?
Mrs. O’Farrel.
As two bears. Aren’t they, Dean?
Dean.
Sulky? No, no; surely not sulky! Chastened! Thoughtful! A little
overcome, perhaps, by the beauty of the night—as all sensitive
young souls should be.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
H’m!... Sensitive young souls!...
(Lady Patricia, followed by Michael,
enters on the left.)
Lady Patricia.
All of you? But how charming! How delightful!
Dean.
Dear Lady Patricia!
(Michael moves towards Clare,
who evades his ardent gaze.)
Mrs. O’Farrel.
What have you been doing with yourselves?
Lady Patricia.
Looking at the guelder-roses in the moonlight, and wondering
whether they were guelder-roses at all or great pearls.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
Personally I should say they were guelder-roses.
Lady Patricia.
Ah, but dear Aunt Eileen, how can you tell what pranks the fairies
may not play on such a night as this?
Dean.
What an exquisite fancy!
Bill.
(Who has been looking jealously at Clare and Michael. He speaks
defiantly with eyes on Clare.) I say, Cousin Patricia....
Lady Patricia.
Yes, Cousin Bill?
(Clare looks at them.)
Bill.
If it wouldn’t bother you too much, I wonder if you’d care to take
me to have a look at those thingumybob roses. It would be simply
corking!
Lady Patricia.
I shall be charmed, Cousin Bill. We’ll settle the question of
guelder-rose or pearl together.
(They move towards the ladder on
the left.)
Clare.
(In a low voice to Bill as he passes her.) Worm! (In a defiant voice
to Michael.) Mr. Cosway, you’ve never shown me the—the what’s-its-
name....
Michael.
The spiral nebula in Andromeda? It’s scarcely favourable for a
view of the nebula to-night. Shall we look at the mountains of the
moon?
Clare.
Thanks awfully.
(She and Michael move to the
central ladder.)
Lady Patricia.
(To Bill as they descend on the left.) Do you believe in fairies,
Cousin Bill?
Michael.
(To Clare as they descend the
central ladder.)
I have often wondered how the night would look if we had nine
moons like Jupiter.
(A pause. The Dean looks
disapprovingly after the
disappearing Bill, Mrs.
O’Farrel through her lorgnette
after Clare.)
Mrs. O’Farrel.
H’m....
Dean.
I beg your pardon?... You were saying?...
Mrs. O’Farrel.
I didn’t say anything. I was thinking.
Dean.
Ah, thinking—yes, thinking.... So was I.... By the way, Eileen, your
—er—cherished project for marrying Clare to your son doesn’t
appear to be materialising quite—er—satisfactorily.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
No, it doesn’t.
Dean.
Not quite as smoothly as we—as you hoped.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
Give me a whisky-and-soda.
Dean.
A whisky——
Mrs. O’Farrel.
And soda.
(The Dean pours out a drop of
whisky.)
Go on....
(The Dean sets the syphon going.)
Nearly full.... When!... And you had better take something as well
—to fortify yourself against what I am going to say.
Dean.
Ah.... A little soda-water. (Helps himself.) So you are going to be
unpleasant, my dear Eileen?
Mrs. O’Farrel.
I am. Those two had been quarrelling just now.
Dean.
That was evident—even to me.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
They had been quarrelling bitterly—and I can make a shrewd
guess at the cause.
Dean.
I also.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
Indeed. Well, I think it’s high time to speak plainly.
Dean.
I quite agree with you.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
I’m glad to hear it.... Bill had very evidently been taking your
daughter to task for her amazing indiscretions.
Dean.
Amazing indiscretions? Clare’s? Will you kindly be more explicit.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
I mean to be. Perhaps you remember some weeks ago I warned
you that her intimacy with Michael Cosway ought to be stopped?
Dean.
Certainly. And I took leave to disagree with you entirely.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
Well, you were wrong. You should immediately have put an end to
this intimacy—to use the mildest word for her friendship with
Michael.
Dean.
Mrs. O’Farrel, is it possible you are speaking of my daughter?
Mrs. O’Farrel.
And it’s your duty to put an end to it at once. I only hope that you
may not be too late.
Dean.
This—this—this is beyond anything!... Perhaps you will be so good
——
Mrs. O’Farrel.
Now then, Dean, pray don’t lose your temper. It’s neither wise nor
becoming, and at our age very bad for the heart. Listen to me
quietly for a moment. I refused for a long time to believe any ill of
this—er—friendship. I knew Michael to be infatuated with his wife,
and Clare to be a healthy-minded girl. But last week Emily Fitzgerald
told me she had seen Michael walking in the Stanton Woods with his
arm around Clare’s shoulder. She added that the affair was becoming
quite notorious in the neighbourhood.... You must act, and act at
once.
Dean.
Is that all? So you condescend to listen to the tittle-tattle of a
notorious old gossip like Emily Fitzgerald? Upon my word I’m
ashamed of you!
Mrs. O’Farrel.
Dean! Have you taken leave of your senses?
Dean.
I might well put that question to you, Mrs. O’Farrel. But I refrain
from vulgar tu quoque repartee. I have no more to say except to
warn you that before looking after the morals of my daughter, you
had far better look after those of your son.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
My son?
Dean.
Precisely—your son.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
What do you mean?
Dean.
I and others—unlike yourself, I will not drag in the names of
outsiders—have for some time past watched your son and Lady
Patricia with grief and dismay.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
Patricia!
Dean.
Just now you believed your son had been impertinently taking
Clare to task for her charming friendship with Michael Cosway. I am
convinced you were mistaken. It was Clare who had been warning
your son that his indiscretions were becoming the talk of the place.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
Bill entangled with Patricia! And Clare—Clare preaching propriety!
It’s too laughable! A boy’s innocent homage for a woman at least ten
years his senior! You’re a very foolish old man.
Dean.
Again I put away from me the tu quoque retort.... Add two and
two together. I don’t for a moment blame her. I can’t find it in my
heart to blame her. The dear and beautiful creature is as God made
her: exquisitely sensitive, sentimental and infinitely affectionate....
But I warn you, Mrs. O’Farrel, I warn you.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
I refuse to hear another word. You ought to be ashamed of
yourself!... And the saddest part of the whole affair is my poor boy’s
undoubted affection for your daughter.
Dean.
Affection for Clare! I don’t believe it!
Mrs. O’Farrel.
Are you his mother?
Dean.
Certainly not!... But I have watched him—with the result that I am
convinced of his infatuation for Lady Patricia.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
Fiddle-sticks!
Dean.
And I may as well tell you, though you will not believe it, that my
poor girl’s affections are centred on your son.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
Oh, dam’ foolishness!
Dean.
This has gone far enough, Mrs. O’Farrel.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
Quite far enough. I am going home.
Dean.
So am I.
(Followed by the Dean, Mrs.
O’Farrel moves towards the
central ladder. Suddenly he
stops, hurries on tiptoe to the
back, and looks cautiously
over the railing. He
whispers:)
Eileen!...
Mrs. O’Farrel.
What is it?
Dean.
Hush!... Clare’s coming here with Michael Cosway. I offer you a
chance to substantiate the aspersions you have made against her
character.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
What do you mean?
Dean.
We will conceal ourselves in the summer-house and hear what
they have to say to each other.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
Really, Dean!
Dean.
We may disregard the rules of ordinary morality in a situation like
this. I speak professionally. Quick! (He draws her towards the
summer-house.)
Mrs. O’Farrel.
Well, upon my word!...
(They go into the summer-house,
and sit with the door open,
but invisible in the gloom of
the interior. Voices are heard
beneath. Then Clare enters
on the left, followed by
Michael.)
Clare.
Father!... (She looks around her.) Why, they’ve gone!...
Michael.
They must have returned to the house.
Clare.
We had better go too.
Michael.
Oh, Clare, a moment.... Look at me, dear.... (He takes her hands.)
Clare.
Well?
Michael.
Are you unhappy?
Clare.
Why should I be?
Michael.
You are no longer the wild and buoyant thing you were. You have
grown so pensive and distrait. And is it my jealous imagination?—so
often lately you have seemed to avoid me....
Clare.
I—I’m sorry....
Michael.
There’s trouble in your eyes, my dearest. Clare, do you chafe at
the restrictions fate has put on our love?
Clare.
Oh, I—I don’t know. I’m all right, Michael—but you—— We’d
better go in now. Father’s waiting for me.
Michael.
Clare.
Clare.
Yes.
Michael.
Kiss me before you go.
Clare.
Oh, not now....
Michael.
(Bending down to her.) Kiss me, dear.
(She kisses him perfunctorily on
the cheek; he sighs; she
turns and descends the
ladder on the left; he follows
her.)
How sweet it is!...
Clare.
Sweet?
Michael.
Your “pigtail,” dear. The sight of it makes me feel a boy again. I
should like to pull it and run away.
(Clare laughs and they both
descend out of sight. A
pause. The nightingale starts
singing. Mrs. O’Farrel
emerges from the summer-
house. Her step is almost
jaunty with suppressed
triumph, and her manner
elaborately off-hand. The
Dean remains invisible in the
summer-house.)
Mrs. O’Farrel.
Ah, the nightingale! How charmingly it sings to-night!... I do wish
we had some nightingales at Ashurst. I suppose they prefer low-
lying ground like this.... Do they sing in your garden at the Deanery?
(The Dean comes out of the
summer-house in a very
crestfallen condition.)
Dean.
Eileen——
Mrs. O’Farrel.
(Cheerfully.) Yes?
Dean.
This is dreadful—dreadful....
Mrs. O’Farrel.
On the contrary, I think it’s most delightful! One can hear every
note so perfectly at this elevation.
Dean.
Is it generous of you—is it generous of you, Eileen, to flaunt your
terrible triumph like this? I am heart-broken! I am distracted! What
on earth am I to do?
Mrs. O’Farrel.
(Pouring him out a whisky-and-soda.) Drink this!
Dean.
(Pettishly.) I don’t care for whisky.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
Oh, you needn’t make such a fuss! It’s perfectly obvious from
what we saw just now that no real harm has been done. The way
she kissed Michael——
(She bursts out laughing.)
Dean.
How can you, Eileen? How can you?
Mrs. O’Farrel.
It reminded me of a child taking castor-oil!... But Michael—the
double-faced hypocrisy of the man! I’m really very sorry for Patricia.
Dean.
I don’t see the necessity for lavishing sympathy on her.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
What do you mean? Doesn’t she believe he returns her devotion?
Dean.
Her devotion doesn’t prevent her philandering with other men, as
I told you just now.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
Well, upon my word! I wouldn’t have believed it! In spite of this
gross example of your obtuseness, you still have the—the audacity
to stick to your slander against Bill! Really I—— (She stops short,
listens, then hurries to the back and looks over the railing. She turns
to the Dean and speaks in a quiet whisper.) We must hide in the
summer-house....
Dean.
Eh? What?
Mrs. O’Farrel.
At once! Bill and Patricia are returning here. You will see for
yourself there’s nothing more between them than cousinly regard.
Dean.
I refuse to eavesdrop a lady.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
But you deliberately did it a moment ago.
Dean.
Clare is my daughter.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
Fiddlesticks! (Pushes him before her.) Quick now!
Dean.
I submit——
Mrs. O’Farrel.
Hush!
Dean.
—Under protest....
(She shepherds the Dean into the
summer-house just as Patricia
and Bill come up the central
ladder.)
Lady Patricia.
Cousin Bill and I have discovered that guelder-roses are guelder-
roses after all.... Why, Bill dear, they’re not here!
Bill.
Got impatient, I suppose, and went back to the house. About time
we did the same. It’s getting late.
Lady Patricia.
(Dreamily.) Too late, too late! Ye cannot enter now!
Bill.
What d’you say?
Lady Patricia.
I was quoting Tennyson.
Bill.
Oh....
Lady Patricia.
You know the lines, don’t you? Listen:
So sweet and sad, are they not? Don’t you love sweet, sad things?
Bill.
Rather.
Lady Patricia.
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
Bill.
Rather.... I say, hadn’t we better be going?
Lady Patricia.
Bill....
Bill.
Yes.
Lady Patricia.
(Her hands on his shoulders.) Do you love me as you used to?
Bill.
I say, why d’you—you don’t think——
Lady Patricia.
No—no—no—ah, no! I know well enough that your love is deeper
and stronger than it was. But this sacred love—this hopeless love of
ours has swept you suddenly into manhood. You are no longer a
boy; you are graver; you are sadder.... And if sometimes you seem
to avoid me now, it’s due to no cooling of passion, but to the fear
lest the pent-up lava at your heart should overflow and ruin us both.
Bill.
I say, you do put things awfully well!
Lady Patricia.
Petrarch and Laura—Paolo and Francesca—Lancelot and
Guinevere.... Bill—no, William and Patricia.... Ah, my poor boy, put
your arm around me, and say those lines of Lovelace that I taught
you.
Bill.
Oh, I say—really, you know—— On my honour, I’ve forgotten
’em....
Lady Patricia.
No, no! You’re merely shy—bashful—boyish! I love to hear you say
that verse. (She starts him.) Yet this——
Bill.
Yet this—yet this—— What’s the word?
Lady Patricia.
Yet this inconstancy——
Bill.
(In a self-conscious sing-song.)
Lady Patricia.
Loved I not honour more.... Love—duty—honour—— (She sighs
deeply.) Come, dear....
(They go out on the left. A pause.
The Dean comes out of the
summer-house. He barely
conceals his triumph under a
mask of outraged propriety.
Mrs. O’Farrel follows him.)
Dean.
H’m.... Cousinly regard!...
Mrs. O’Farrel.
It’s shocking! Outrageous!
Dean.
It is indeed.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
—That you shouldn’t even pretend to hide your satisfaction at the
scene we have just witnessed.
Dean.
Satisfaction! I assure you, dear lady, I’m shocked and grieved—
deeply grieved, that your son should prove capable of such
depravity.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
My son! You know as well as I do that the foolish boy has been
bewitched by that unprincipled woman.
Dean.
Come, come, Eileen. In common fairness we should apportion the
blame equally—though, indeed, my experience has generally led me
to the conclusion that the man is more to blame in these cases than
the woman.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
Your experience! Quite so!... I shall give Patricia my plain,
unvarnished opinion of herself and forbid her my house. You will tell
Michael that he’s a scoundrel and a libertine.
Dean.
No, no, no! Tact, tact, my dear Eileen, tact and diplomacy!... Let
us calmly review the position. Cosway’s and Lady Patricia’s relations
with Clare and your son, though highly culpable, appear to be
blameless of the worst, and considerably more—er—ardent on the
part of the married couple than of the single. So much is—er—
unhappily evident. Now, do you still maintain that your son is—er—
interested in Clare?
Mrs. O’Farrel.
I am certain of it.
Dean.
Incredible! Of course, I know—in spite of appearances—that Clare
feels strongly for your son.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
Fudge!
Dean.
Now, my dear Eileen, pray don’t fall back on contradiction. What
we have both got to do is to bring these young people together——
Mrs. O’Farrel.
Hush! D’you hear? (She goes quickly to the back and looks out. A
pause.) All four of them! Of course, they went up to the house to
look for us.... What shall we do?
Dean.
Ah! (Goes to the railing at the back.) Allow me.... (Calls.) Clare....
Clare.
(Beneath.) Hullo!...
Mrs. O’Farrel.
(Excitedly.) But are you going to let them know——
Dean.
I beg you, Eileen, to sit down and control yourself.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
Well, but I should like to know——
Dean.
Will you kindly entrust the conduct of the situation entirely to me.
Take your cue from me, and above all, be tactful and dignified. (He
sits down with unction.)
Mrs. O’Farrel.
I really believe you are thoroughly enjoying yourself.
Dean.
Pray don’t be flippant, Eileen. This is a very serious matter.
(He crosses his legs and fixes his
eyeglass as Clare enters up
the central ladder followed by
Lady Patricia, Bill, and
Michael.)
Clare.
We thought you had gone back to the house.
Dean.
Indeed.
Lady Patricia.
I really believe they went to depreciate the guelder-roses as well!
Mrs. O’Farrel.
We did nothing of the sort, Patricia, and let——
Dean.
Kindly allow me, Mrs. O’Farrel.... No, Lady Patricia, we have not
been to examine the guelder-roses. We have been all the time here.
Dean.
We have been all the time—here.
Michael.
But—but I returned a short while ago, and you were certainly not
here then.
Dean.
Excuse me, sir—we were.
Clare.
But we never saw you....
Dean.
That I can quite believe. We, however, saw you and Mr. Cosway
quite distinctly.
Mrs. O’Farrel.
Most distinctly! And I——
Dean.
Allow me, Mrs. O’Farrel....
Bill.
But, I say——
Dean.
Sir?
Bill.
You can’t have been here a minute or two ago when Patri——
Cousin Patricia and I——
Dean.
Pardon me, sir—we were.
Bill.
But, I say, you must have hidden yourselves somewhere, because
——
Dean.
Your mother and I were sitting in the summer-house.
Bill, Clare.
Oh ...!
Lady Patricia.
Oh!... O—oh!... (She gropes for a chair, she sits down heavily.)
Michael.
What—what is the matter, dear?
Lady Patricia.
Nothing.... I—I am a little faint——
Michael.
The—the night is certainly oppressive....
Lady Patricia.
I—I’m all right now....
(A pause. The nightingale starts
singing.)
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