The girl suppressed a chuckle that would have been inexplicable. There was something about their greeting and the tone of Annabel’s exclamation which puzzled her. " "What?" he barked. Both carried packages of books and magazines. Do sit down, dear boy. "I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. " With this, he mounted his steed and rode off. He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets.
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