Kneebone's habitation, the shutters of which were closed, and knocked at the door. " "I'm not afraid, mother," said the little girl, smelling at the bouquet. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. Can it ever be so good again?” Ann Veronica put out a firm hand and squeezed his arm.
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