. ’ She simpered, and withdrew one hand so that she might smack his fingers playfully. " "Iss, missis," grinned the black. A white house that she often found charming loomed gray and ashen, its gardens shorn for the coming winter. “Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them. I will endeavour. You ought to know that.
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