His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true. Your aunt liked the pheasant. And then, there would be the question of money. "If you don't stop its squalling, I will. Beyond was a field sloping steeply upwards, and at the top a small pine plantation. She had eaten little or no tea, and her mid-day meal had been worse than nothing. Nobody will ever know what the fleas thought. One who—who—tres.
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