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back in a cue behind.

Just as the old eight-day clock in the lobby solemnly struck four,
there was a loud knock at the back door, and the post-messenger from
Pendlepoint strode into the kitchen, holding in his hand a
black-edged letter.

"Bad news for ye, Miss Hepsy, I doubt," he said. "It'll be from your
sister in Newhaven, I reckon."


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