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Mary Anne with her face to the window, held her arm up. Well, Mary Anne? Mr Headstone coming home, maam. In about a minute, Mary Anne again hailed. Yes, Mary Anne? Gone in and locked his door, maam. Miss Peecher repressed a sigh as she gathered her work together for bed, and transfixed that part of her dress where her heart would have been if she had had the dress on, with a sharp, sharp needle. |
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