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			Breakfast With The Maven This morning, the air was chilly, the sun brighter than necessary, the water in my drawn bath tepid. The linen on my breakfast tray was damp, the flowers faded, the tea made with too many leaves. The breakfast itself, however, consisting of a coddled egg, a hot scone, sweet butter, strawberry preserves, and two tiny children delivered fresh at dawn, was perfect. © 2001 Tulis MCall