At the eastern gate of the churchyard stood the carriage with the steps lowered. Her time and effort was justly rewarded, because the hard cold facts she knew about neighborhood intrigues were better than fictional soap operas. “I’m fine,” she said softly. " "Very well. "No prize shall indushe me to enter dat horrid plashe again. She noted the dank hair on his forehead, the sweat of revolting nature.
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