The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. "My enemy," replied her son. Dolby was portly and handsome. “Mr. Wherein she differed but little from her young sisters. I should be sorry if Shotbolt got the reward.
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