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Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. Lucy didn’t seem like a teenage girl at all to Sheila and she knew it. “Ciao, Fragolina. ” “I wanted to, John. "Ay, indeed! And who may that be?" inquired his wife. “What are you doing?” “Nothing.
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