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’ Trodger eyed her with suspicion. She bussed his cheek with her small lips as he stood by the open door, and exited alone towards the sleeping house. Pottiswick’s daughter found her tongue. Her wedding gown! She wondered if the spirit of the unknown mother looked down upon her. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. “I will not trouble you with any questions about the other occupants of the flats,” Mr. 1.
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