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But, when? When do they go?’ ‘Today, miss. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. She could see that he was curious, so she sat upon him and they rocked back and forth. Look out, it’s coming. “Why, what is the matter with you? What do you mean?” Annabel laughed scornfully. ‘And me, I am a lady. "I'm sorry," she said.
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