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There was a black fear in his heart. "Plague on't!" added he: "I never meant to take your babby from you. Do you hear me? Do you hear what I am saying?. Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. I have tried not to tell you—tried to be simply your friend. My foster mother, Sheila, insists that I go to St.
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