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Ann Veronica sat down in the other arm-chair and darned badly for a minute or so. His mind was filled briefly with psychic images of a charnel house that danced like a spider in his head. “I am glad,” she told herself, “I came. ” Ann Veronica hesitated, and then stood in the open doorway and regarded her father’s stern presence. Pennsylvania Dutch. “Where is she?” He would yell even louder until she was sure that people in faraway fishing boats could probably hear him.

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