As he approached the gable of Mrs. ” “Dear me,” Anna laughed, “how unfortunate! What ought I to do? Should I be forgiven, do you think, if I were to go and hold that skein of wool for the old lady in the yellow cap?” “Don’t speak of her irreverently,” Brendon said, in an awed whisper. You can give up thinking and leave all the brain work to her. “Stop this—this humbugging,” he explained.
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