” “On the contrary,” Anna whispered quietly, “we met in a small boarding-house where I was stopping. ” “And the man stands as the master at the mouth of the den. “Does he never speak to you of—of old times?” she faltered. "Don't look at it, I entreat," she cried. 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. “You!” she exclaimed.
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