A row of magnificent, and even then venerable, elms threw their broad arms over this pleasant spot. Lucy pinned her hair off her neck and hoped it would make her to look decidedly older. She whispered, “Another car is coming,” as lights approached their car. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. "Fold it … under the pillow. Michelle burst into laughter, followed by John, who almost spit up his cola.
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