‘And I don’t mind telling you it goes agin’ the grain with me to let you go free and all, missie. ’ Mrs Ibstock’s lips tightened and she looked away a moment. I burned it. To be alone with her, in idleness, was an intolerable thought. “My father’s sisters used once to live in the old manor house. Surely he was imagining this picture. Wasn’t it—a little bit of a scene?” “Oh! let me see. .
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