"Auntie?" he cried. "Aren't you afraid?" "Of what?"—serenely. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper. Time wore on somewhat slowly with the prisoner, who had to control his impatience in the best way he could; but as the shades of evening were darkening, the door was unlocked, and Mr. ” “Rum,” said Ann Veronica. A sob was strangled in her throat.
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