Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. “Stuffy these trees make the Avenue,” said Mr. "Tut, tut! Don't exaggerate. Mercifully, John had been sick for two of the three days of Thanksgiving week, giving her reprieve from both his presence and the machinations of Katy Pfister, who was always less active on days when he was not around. "Now, give me the woollen cloth to tie round my fetters," whispered Sheppard.
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