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And from that point they went on to a thoroughly embittering wrangle. Doesn’t matter a bit to me. ” Anna read, and her cheeks grew slowly scarlet. “As a matter of fact, I deserve to. . The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. “What’s wrong with having witchcraft books? Is she afraid that the Princeton Hill villagers will burn you at stake?” Lucy asked sarcastically. . Such a beautiful boy he is, but his intelligence is marginal. She felt a storm of emotion surging up within her. ‘It was your son who left the place empty then?’ he asked.
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