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He drew an awed breath. “They ought to have been lopped in the spring. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. ‘As to that, I am a devil, say the nuns. ’ She counted off on her fingers. “Great, Cathy. “So Lucy, I hear that you are quite the violin player. Perhaps the old fool was not as fanciful as they had thought.
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