But I will disappoint you. “How are you?” He asked, realizing she was unnerved by the very sound of his voice. It must be the dawn creeping in. He had now reached what was called the Lower Leads,—a flat, covering a part of the prison contiguous to the gateway, and surrounded on all sides by walls about fourteen feet high. Lucy had baked the apple and pumpkin pies, carefully molding the flour crusts and adding extra teaspoonfuls of allspice and cinnamon while no one looked. The Becks were the best foster family that she had ever had.
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