"My little fancy man's quite as fond of me as of you, Bess. ” “I’m delighted,” she exclaimed. Why would your mother be so impatient?” Lucy speculated. The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. “Perhaps for myself I do not mind, but this man is sure to find out some day, and he will not like having been deceived. God bless you, Auntie! I'll go into the mills and make pulp with my bare hands, if you want me to.
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