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Sat 04 Apr 2003An Irishwoman's Diary
Mitzi. She had to be called Mitzi. She had the look of an eager young girl. There was something 19th century about her - she could have been a red cheeked Viennese lass who had recently arrived in the city from the provinces to work in a pastry shop on the something or other Strasse, writes Eileen Battersby
Pretty but robust, broad-shouldered and given to violent blushes, she would not become one of those tubercular seamstresses of ethereal, doomed beauty.
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