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He breathed heavily, as though he had been running. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast. "Halloa, widow!" shouted a rough voice from below, "where the devil are you?" Mrs. Your time isn't come yet. Mr. ” Anna looked up with a doubtful smile of non-recognition. For five minutes he has been trying to think of something to say. CHAPTER XVII. Too close, he reasoned, for safety. Let us proceed with our tale.
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