“Do come and cheer me up. But this was not a season in which to be needlessly scrupulous. “The Holy Ghost! The Pope! My mother!” She squealed. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. “It’s my fault. Lucy had baked the apple and pumpkin pies, carefully molding the flour crusts and adding extra teaspoonfuls of allspice and cinnamon while no one looked. Their small talk continued.
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