If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. At first she could not tell what it was; but as her eyes became accustomed to the light, she recognized the old coat. "It's all up, master," groaned Ben, "nothin' short of a merracle can save us. She wondered even at this late day how she had been able to hold her maddening curiosity in check. “We must go.
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