The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. " "I hadn't thought of that. Or mad, just as the captain had said so many times. I still have a cross stitch she made for me of a little fairy sitting on a daffodil. He stepped in with a heavy foreboding of calamity. Twice she smiled, but not unkindly.
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