Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. Lucy had baked the apple and pumpkin pies, carefully molding the flour crusts and adding extra teaspoonfuls of allspice and cinnamon while no one looked. ‘From the convent, where else?’ ‘It does not strike me that you can possibly have been in a convent. “I was sick of the make-believe. "That depends upon what you call educated.
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