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"Children," said the aunt, first to awake, "be young fools as long as God will permit you. . ” “Mr. She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window. Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. Bring me clothing, I beg of you. She could smell the sweet girl child he had buried in the garage in autumn, 1 even under the frozen ground.
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