She wedged the towel between her legs. She held out both her hands. ” She paused. Your servant, Mr. What!— you know so little of that child? She ran away from you. Show him no quarter, Poll. The ladder was now within reach. Mrs. It was not a hard face, but it was resolute. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. Good riddance to bad rubbish.
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